


Second Chances

by Nekomata58919



Category: Casper (1995)
Genre: Angst, Enthusiastic Consent, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Violence, Past Character Death, Period Typical Attitudes, Sex, Singing, The Ghostly Trio being themselves, at times - Freeform, attempting to sound like I know what I'm talking about, descriptions of death, talk of trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:33:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 31,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27333478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nekomata58919/pseuds/Nekomata58919
Summary: Dr. James Harvey never thought he would be friends (or more) with ghosts. Kat never thought she'd try to raise the dead. You learn to expect the unexpected when you live with the living impaired.
Relationships: Dr. James Harvey/Stretch McFadden
Comments: 76
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I honestly don't know how active this fandom is, but I had an idea and needed to put it out there.  
> A few words before the start: I'm not a therapist or psychologist, so while I did some research into things, there might be inaccuracies. Some of the things that are said or depicted are representative of the time the Ghostly Trio would have been alive, and also just their general personalities. Also, I made a little change to the canon, but it was necessary for plot. If you know, you'll know, if you don't, don't worry about it. ;)  
> I hope whoever does read this, enjoys it as much as I've been enjoying writing it.

Another put-upon sigh echoed throughout the hotel room. Doctor James Harvey looked up from the documents he’d been working through, adjusting his glasses as he turned his attention to Kat, where she lay on her back on her bed, staring up at the off-white ceiling. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Kat frowned. “What’s the point.”

“Honey, I know you miss living at Whipstaff with Casper,” James said, setting the papers down on the small plywood desk. “It should go on the market soon. I promise I’ll look at the price, and if we can, we’ll buy it. Considering the condition the place is in, it might not be too expensive.”

“Yeah, but we’ve been wasting money on this stupid hotel. It’s been two whole months,” Kat retorted, sitting up. She shook her head. “What if the bank decides to tear it down instead?”

James nodded slowly. “That is a possibility. But I doubt they’d choose to do so immediately. It would be a major financial loss.” He smiled. “Besides, do you really think they’d be able to? I have a feeling they’d be met with three very angry protesters.”

That got a small smile from her. “Okay, true,” Kat agreed. She tucked her hair behind her ear, smile fading. “Still, I feel bad. Casper must think we’re never coming back.”

While he hadn’t said so, James missed being there just as much. He missed the Ghostly Trio. As annoying as they could be, Stretch, Stinkie, and Fatso had grown on him. Especially since they’d kept their promise and contacted Amelia for him. James understood Kat's eagerness to return, and her frustration at being unable to.

“Hey.” James stood and walked over to her. He rested a hand on her shoulder. “Even if we don’t get it, we can still visit. I know we haven’t been able to now, but we can figure something out.” James held out his pinky.

Kat looked up at him. “Deal.” She hooked her pinky through his with a grin.

Whipstaff Manor was listed in the papers three days later. James hurried into the hotel room, holding the paper high. “One-hundred dollars!” he crowed.

Kat pulled her CD player’s headphones away from her eyes. “Huh?”

“Whipstaff Manor is being sold for one hundred dollars! I’m calling right away,” James said. He grabbed the hotel room’s phone and dialed the number.

“Really? That’s awesome!”

James looked around for a pen and paper, having forgotten to get them in his excitement. He spotted them on the desk. “Oh! Hello,” he said into the phone. James tried to reach the desk, but the old phone cord only stretched so far. “James Harvey. I’m interested in the property you listed—Whipstaff Manor?”

Kat set her CD player aside and got up to get the paper and pen for him.

“Thanks,” James whispered. His attention returned to the phone, which he tucked between his ear and shoulder. “Yeah. Uh-huh. Tomorrow? Yes, that works for me.” James scribbled down the address he was given. “Mhm. Of course. Alright, thank you so much.”

“Well?” Kat asked when he hung up.

James beamed. “I’ve got an appointment with the listing agent tomorrow.”

“You are aware of the state the manor is in, Dr. Harvey?” the agent asked, looking across his desk at James, his graying eyebrows raised.

James nodded. “Yes. I was working there for Ms. Crittenden before she died. She wanted me to clear the place of the ghosts haunting it,” he explained.

“I see.” The agent sounded surprised. “Then you are prepared to pay full price, knowing the damages as well as the rumors?”

“Yep,” James agreed with a smile. “I’m ready to sign as soon as possible.”

The agent stood, gathering the paper work. “Well, then, let’s get started.” He chuckled. “I imagine you’ll get the property, since I doubt anyone else will show any interest.”

“Great.”

* * *

Sparkling snow covered the trees and grounds of Whipstaff Manor. James slowed his car to a stop and peered out the window at the enormous mansion. “There it is. Just like we left it,” he said with a smile. It had taken a little over a week to get the manor, but it had been worth it. The bank had wanted to get rid of it as fast as possible.

“Okay, great, let’s go,” Kat huffed, clambering out of the car.

“I guess we’ll bring our stuff in later,” James muttered to himself. He got out and jogged to catch up with his daughter who was already climbing the front steps. It was a little slippery, what with the black ice coating the pavement, and he almost slipped. James unlocked the double doors, silently admiring the beautiful stained glass as he did, and pushed them open.

The manor was dark as they walked inside, their footsteps echoing off the soaring walls.

“Hello?” Kat called into the empty foyer.

A quiet creak from above caught Jame’s attention. His head snapped up. The chandelier above broke from the ceiling, heading straight for Kat. “NO!” James dove for her, grabbing her and rolling them out of the way. The chandelier smashed into the floor, shattering right where Kat had been standing.

_“Ya missed!”_

“I almost got ‘em!”

“Good going.”

James looked up to see three familiar ghosts hovering by the ceiling. They turned away from each other to glare down at them.

“Wait a second…” Stretch’s violet eyes widened.

Stinkie grimaced. “Is that…?”

“Doc and the kid!” Fatso boomed, grinning.

“What’s wrong with you guys!?” Kat demanded, getting to her feet.

The Ghostly Trio sunk towards the floor.

“We thought it was one of those suits comin’ around here again,” Stretch sneered, hands on his non-existent hips. “If we’d’ve known it was _you guys,_ we would’ve hit ya for sure.”

Stinkie and Fatso cackled.

“Seriously?” Kat rolled her eyes at them. “What happened to being best friends with my dad?”

“Who said we’re best friends, huh?” Fatso asked, arms crossed.

“Yeah,” Stinkie agreed.

James finally stood, wiping his hands on his pants. “Guys, I’m sorry we left so suddenly. What with Carrigan gone, we couldn’t live here anymore. The bank took the place.”

The three exchanged a look.

“Hey guys, what’s going on? I thought I heard—KAT!”

Kat gasped as Casper sped from one of the many halls and into her face. “Casper!”

“You’re back!” Casper exclaimed, beaming as he swirled around her. “I _knew_ you’d be back!”

Stretch snagged Casper by the scruff of his neck. “Hold on there, bulb-head. We don’t know why these fleshies are here. ‘Sides, weren’t you makin’ us lunch?”

Casper drooped in his hold. “I…”

James adjusted his glasses. “If you’d allow me to explain,” he said, fumbling through the pockets of his jacket. “Ah, there it is.” James pulled out a copy of the deed. “We bought the place.”

Stretch let go of Casper and swiped the paper, peering at it. Stinkie and Fatso leaned over his shoulders to take a look.

“So that means you _are_ back?” Casper asked, hopeful once more. “You’ll live here again?”

Kat smiled at him. “That’s exactly what it means.”

“Woo-hoo!” Casper cheered, punching the air and spinning up towards the ceiling. He did a little back-flip and swooped back down to hover in front of Kat. “Do you need help getting your stuff? The room’s just the way you left it.”

“Wait a minute, who said we want ya back here, huh?” Stretch asked, getting in James' face. “Maybe we were happier with you both outta our way.”

Stinkie and Fatso nodded.

James took a step back. “Now don’t be that way, fellas,” he said with a hesitant smile. “I’m sure you missed us as much as we missed all of you.”

Stinkie titled his head. “You… _missed us?”_

“Heh, yeah right,” Fatso snorted.

James’ smile relaxed. “Of course we did.”

“Speak for yourself,” Kat muttered, leaving with Casper. She called back over her shoulder, “We’re gonna go get my stuff!”

“She’s just being a teenager,” James said, chuckling awkwardly. He swung one arm over Stretch’s shoulders, then one over Stinkie’s and Fatso’s. It was strange touching a ghost, like resting your hand on water—not quite in, but just brushing the surface. “Why don’t we all relax. It’ll be like we weren’t even gone.”

Stretch rolled his eyes. “Fine. Just don’t get all sappy on us.” He shuddered dramatically.

“Great!” James let go and clapped his hands together. “I think things will go much better this time. We might even be able to make great progress on your therapy.”

Stinkie gaped. “So you came back just to get rid of us.”

The Trio rose into the air, glaring down at him as they grew in size. The air grew heavy. Oppressive. Their eyes began to glow.

“What? No! No, not at all,” James insisted, shaking his head. “That’s not what I meant. You guys can all stay, this is your home. But don’t you want to live your best after-lives?”

“Hmmm…. No!” Stretch shouted. The three cackled.

“I just think that it would help all of us. I’d even like to include Casper in some sessions,” James continued, unbothered by their denial. “We’re all going to be living together, so we should all be able to get along.”

“I like that idea,” Casper said, floating past him with a box in his transparent arms. Kat followed after him with a box of her own.

“Yeah? Well no-one asked you,” snapped Stretch.

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” James said, gesturing at them. “Maybe we can get to the root of your treatment of Casper.”

The Trio groaned.

“Fine. If it’ll get ya to shut up about it,” Stretch said, rolling his eyes.

“Really?” Fatso asked with a frown.

“Sure.” Stretch snickered, floating away. “He’ll give up in a couple days.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos and comments! I'm glad there's an interest in this. So I hope you enjoy this next chapter. :)

James had decided the best way to start things off would be one-on-one sessions. It would allow Casper time to speak for himself about anything without being harassed by his uncles, and the Trio wouldn’t be able to distract each other and work themselves into a frenzy of mischief. He would work up to the idea of group sessions later.

Casper floated into the library, where James had set up his office once more. “Hiya, Dr. Harvey,” he greeted, smiling.

“Hey, Casper. Why don’t you sit there?” James suggested, gesturing to the newly dusted fainting couch that still sat in the middle of the room. He smiled back as he made his way over to the overstuffed wing-back chair nearby. He dusted off the seat and sat down. “How are you today?”

“Uh, good I guess,” Casper replied, sitting down. “It’s nice having Kat around again. And you, too!”

James nodded. “Yeah, she was pretty upset with me when we had to go. We’re glad to be back.” He crossed one leg over the other, pen and note pad resting on his lap. “Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable during this session? I, uh, would normally offer water or something but…”

Casper laughed, reclining. “Nah, I’m okay. Thanks, though.”

“Good, good.” James clicked his pen. “I think I’ll just jump right in. But let me know if anything we talk about makes you uncomfortable, alright?”

“Got it.”

“Is there anything on your mind that you’d like to talk about?” James asked.

“Uhh…” Casper shrugged. “I guess… Sometimes I think about what is what like to be alive again. It was over so fast, but it was nice. And I don’t mind being a ghost sometimes, it’s just the way things are, you know?”

James nodded, taking notes.

“But also, it’d be nice to be able to make more friends. To talk to people without scaring them by mistake,” Casper continued. He blinked and looked at James. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful! I’m so happy to have Kat and you as friends.”

James smiled kindly. “It’s not ungrateful, Casper. I’m sure it gets lonely at times, being here. And it’s completely normal for young people to want lots of friends.”

“Yeah…”

“Why don’t you tell me about your relationship with your uncles,” James prompted.

Casper fidgeted with his fingers. “They’re alright, I guess. I wish they weren’t so mean to me sometimes, but they can be okay, too.”

James took a couple of notes. “How have they been “okay”?”

“Oh… Uh…” Casper’s face screwed up in concentration. He snapped his fingers. “Right! Um, there was this one time when some ghost hunters came here. They didn’t notice at first, but I did. I didn’t know they were hunting ghosts, though, so I went to go say hi. They screamed and started flinging holy water and salt at me.” Casper sighed, his expression sad. “But then Stretch, Stinkie, and Fatso showed up! They saw what they were doing and scared them off. Stretch seemed even madder than usual. They didn’t say anything about it after, but I know they didn’t want me hurt.”

“I see.” James finished writing and looked back at Casper. “Is that a normal thing? Them scaring away people who try to hurt you?”

Casper though for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. But then they go right back to bossing me around. Besides, that doesn’t happen a lot. Most of the time people either see me and run away, or my uncles get to them first.”

“Ah.” James wrote down a couple additional notes. “Do your uncles ever say anything nice to you?”

“No, not really,” Casper replied with a shrug. He gave Dr. Harvey a half smile. “But they don’t really say anything nice about anyone. I don’t think.”

“And how does that make you feel?”

Casper blinked at the ceiling. “I… I don’t know. Kinda sad. But I’m used to it.”

James gave a quiet sigh. The poor kid. “I’m sorry, Casper. This is a difficult situation, I’m sure.” He clicked his pen again and leaned forward, resting his elbows against his knees. “The way they treat you, you know you don’t deserve it, right?”

“Well, I mean they’re adults, they’re in charge. Like you are with Kat. You’re her dad so she has to listen to you. And she listens to the teachers in school. So if I mess up, then my uncles have a right to get mad,” Casper said, rolling over to look at him. “They do kinda go a bit far sometimes, but it’s not like I can do anything about it.”

“Ah, well, yes and no,” James replied, pushing his glasses back up his nose. “While I may be “in charge” of Kat, I don’t own her. She has free will, just as much as any adult. Of course, I have rules for her, but they’re for her safety. It’s up to me to make sure she grows up and is able to be safe and take care of herself, to be her own person out in the world one day.” He could only hope he was doing it right. Despite Amelia’s assurance, James stilled worried he wasn’t doing enough. But this wasn’t the time to worry about that. “While I may not have been here long, I can see you’re a good kid. You’re helpful, you’re kind, you do your best.”

Casper smiled. “You mean that?” The way he asked sounded as though he’d never been told that.

“Of course,” James said, returning the smile. “What I’m trying to say is, while your uncles are adults, they aren’t doing right by you. If you were misbehaving, even then they’d only have a right to scold you. Adults aren’t in charge to make children their butlers or maids, they’re in charge to keep them healthy and safe. Given your… unique situation, your emotional health is the most important.”

“Okay?” Casper tilted his head, confused.

James tapped absently at the note pad. “I think we can start with something simple. A splitting up of the work load. All of us will take on the chores here, not just you.”

Casper’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Yes.” James grimaced. “Don’t expect an overnight change, but Kat and I will do our share. I’ll work on getting your uncles do start doing their own chores, too.”

“That’s great! Thanks, Dr. Harvey!” Casper exclaimed, floating into the air. His smile dropped a moment later, replaced by an expression of hesitation as he drifted back down to the couch. “Can I ask you something?”

James nodded. “Yeah, of course, go right ahead.”

Casper rested his hands on his lap and twiddled his thumbs. “I’ve been wondering… about why my dad isn’t here. I mean, maybe he moved on, but he had a lot of unfinished business… mainly because of me. So shouldn’t he be a ghost?”

“Oh.” James wasn’t sure how to answer that. Casper’s question was a good one. Understandable. “Well… I’m sure there’s an answer. I can look into it?”

“I don’t want to be a bother,” Casper protested.

James smiled. “It’s no bother, I promise.”

Casper’s cheery demeanor returned. “Okay.”

James coughed, waving away the smoke billowing from the pot on the stove. He stumbled over to a window and hefted it open. “Ah, dammit!”

“What’s cookin’? Smells great!”

James turned to see Stinkie leading the Trio into the kitchen, sniffing loudly.

“Casper! What did you do!?” Stretch hollered, looking around for his nephew.

Fatso peered into the pot. “Eh. Still looks edible.”

“That’s ‘cause you’d eat anything,” Stinkie said with a laugh.

“Actually, that was my sad attempt at corn chowder,” James explained, cleaning his glasses on his sweater. “Should’ve known to try something easier.”

Stretch arched an eyebrow. “And why were _you_ cookin’? That’s Casper’s job.”

“Not anymore,” James replied, rounding the table. He grabbed the pot and dumped it down the drain. “We had a very nice session earlier, and I determined it’d be best if we all split up the chores around here.”

“What do you mean?” Fatso asked.

“Yeah, surely you don’t mean us?” Stinkie looked appalled.

James smiled at them. “All of us. You three, me, Kat, and Casper will all help out.”

Stretch sneered. “Is that so? And just what makes you think we’ll do anything you say?”

“I obviously can’t force you to do anything,” James replied with a shrug. “However, I’d think it’d be good for everyone. I’m sure you all get bored doing nothing all day. It’d be a change of pace.”

“We have enough fun doing the usual, _thanks,”_ Stinkie retorted, the last word leaving his mouth in a putrid green cloud. Stretch and Fatso laughed.

James winced, the stench stinging his eyes and nose. “Like—like I said,” he wheezed. James cleared his throat. “Like I said: I can’t force you to do anything. But Kat and I will be helping out. Which means no-more ordering Casper around. Alright?”

Stretch floated around him. “What’s it to you how we treat the little snot rag?”

“Why do _you_ feel the need to treat him like a servant?” James retorted, brows raised.

“Because we can,” Fatso chuckled.

James tilted his head. “He’s your nephew. I’m sure you three care about him, even a little. He’s just a kid.”

Stretch gave him an unimpressed look. “He’s older than you are, Doc.”

“Technically, that’s true. But he still is mentally and emotionally twelve,” James said, sitting in one of the rickety old chairs. He’d work on supper again when the room no longer smelled so bad. “Don’t you think you should be a little nicer?”

“Weelll…” Stretch rubbed at his chin.

Fatso crossed his arms. “I mean, does it really matter who does the work? Casper or the fleshies, as long as we get what we want, who cares who delivers?”

Stretch nodded. “Good point. Guess bulb-head’s earned a bit of a break. It has been fifty years.”

“Just don’t expect no pleases and thank-yous,” Stinkie piped up from where he hovered over the sink, breathing in the fumes of the failed meal.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” James said. One step at a time.

“Pizza, huh?” Kat asked, eyeing the three large pizza boxes on the kitchen table.

“Well, I figured, why not celebrate our second night back?” James replied with a small laugh. He set out plates for everyone—not that he really expected the Trio to use them.

Kat’s brows rose. “Uh-huh. So, nothing to do with a cooking mistake?”

“Oh boy! Pizza!” Fatso barreled into the room.

James snagged the top pizza box and moved out of the way. Fatso grabbed the second, opened it, and tossed the whole thing into his mouth. It floated in his stomach for a moment before dropping into a splatter on the ground.

“Save some for us!” Stretch snapped, phasing up through the table, the second pizza box in his hands. He lifted the lid and took a few slices—growing an extra limb to do so—and tossed the box to Stinkie.

Casper appeared beside Kat, smiling politely. “Thanks, Dr. Harvey. I haven’t had pizza in a while.”

“No problem,” James said, serving both Kat and Casper three slices, before taking one for himself. 

The Trio ate noisily, destroying the rest of the second pizza, and leaving more gunk on the floor. Kat wrinkled her nose in disgust before turning to distract herself by talking with Casper. James was just glad no-one was yelling at each other. He caught Fatso eyeing the third pizza box. It didn’t look like either Kat or Casper cared for more, and James was a bit put off by everything else, so he slid it over.

“Thanks, Doc. You’re a good guy,” Fatso said, slapping James on the back. He stuffed the remaining slices into his mouth.

“Sure.”

“Dr. Harvey, you sure you don’t want help cleaning up?” Casper asked after dinner drew to an end.

James smiled. “I’m sure. I’ve got everything handled here, why don’t you and Kat go have fun.”

Casper nodded and he and Kat hurried from the room.

James grabbed the paper plates and threw them in the trash, then stacked the empty pizza boxes on top. He figured he’d get around to bringing it all to the dump soon enough. As for the rest of the mess… He found the dustpan and brush Casper had used once before in a little web coated closet. James knelt on the floor and started the unpleasant task of cleaning up the partially digested food.

As he cleaned, he felt like he was being watched. James peered up through his hair, which had fallen into his face, and confirmed that the Ghostly Trio were indeed watching him. Stinkie and Fatso shrugged, disappearing through the ceiling. Stretch stared at him a moment longer, an unidentifiable look in his eyes, before following suit.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who are reading, and to those leaving comments and/or kudos! I really appreciate it. :) I hope you all like this next chapter.

“What a surprise, you’re here on time,” James said, brows raised. Despite his comment, there was no judgment in his voice. He closed the doors to his office behind him and turned to face Fatso.

Fatso, who’d been lounging on the fainting couch, sat up. “Oh yeah. Forgot what I was doing here.” He chuckled. It sounded forced.

James simply gathered his pen and note bad before sitting in his chair. “That’s alright. How are you feeling today?”

“Ugh, do we really gotta go through with this?” Fatso complained, rolling off the couch and into the air.

“I’d like to,” James said evenly. “But, if you’re not feeling ready to chat today, we can reschedule.”

Fatso sighed heavily. “Might as well get it over with.” He floated over James’ head. “I just don’t like talkin’ when I feel weird.”

“Weird?” James made a quick note. “In what way?”

“I dunno, just… weird. Like, not good not bad… Weird,” Fatso explained with a shrug. He meandered back to the fainting couch. “Hey, you didn’t happen to bring any snacks with ya?”

James shook his head, taking more notes. “No, I didn’t.”

“Damn. Snacks always make me feel better,” Fatso muttered.

“And how often do you feel this weird feeling?” James asked.

Fatso hummed and hawed. “Not a lot? Like every few weeks. But time doesn’t really matter when you’re dead, so I don’t know for sure.”

James nodded slowly, glad Fatso was being so forthcoming with his answers. “And when you don’t feel this way, how are you?”

“Great, duh.” Fatso rolled his eyes.

“Hm.” James adjusted his glasses. “How well do you sleep? _Do_ you sleep?”

Fatso groaned in annoyance. “This is boring, Doc. Can this be over yet?”

More notes. James leaned back in his chair. “We can discuss something else if you want.”

“Sure.”

“Alright… Hmm…” James tapped his pen against his notes. “Do you remember anything about your life?” he asked finally.

Fatso rested his hands on his belly. “Nope.”

James blinked. Fatso sounded strangely fine about that. “Do you want to remember?”

“Why should I?” Fatso retorted, looking away. “I can do whatever I want, eat whatever I want, and go wherever I want. Who cares about life when death is so much better?”

James gave a quite sigh. “Okay. I think we can stop now. Picking this up another day might be better,” he said, standing. He stashed his pen and note pad back in his desk.

“Finally.” Fatso swooped up to the second story and disappeared through a wall.

* * *

Kat found Casper in his old playroom. She dropped her backpack by the door and walked over to where he hovered by the train tracks. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Me?” Casper joked.

“Ha-ha. Not what I meant,” Kat replied with a huff.

Casper laughed. “Yeah, I know.” He sunk down to her level. “How was school?”

“Fine. Boring.” Kat crossed her arms. “So? You only hang out here when you’re in a mood.”

“Oh. Yeah… I guess I do, huh.” Casper gave a little sigh. “I asked your dad about my dad a couple days ago. I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately, wondering where he is, you know?”

Kat watched him float sadly around the room. “Maybe he moved on?”

“Maybe. I don’t think so, though. I mean, you read the paper. He was obsessed with trying to bring me back. Doesn’t that sound like unfinished business?” Casper asked, stopping to hover in front of her.

“Then maybe we should try and finish that business,” Kat said.

“Huh?”

“Casper, your dad has a whole lab full of books and stuff,” Kat explained, shaking her head. “There’s gotta be notes or instructions or something on how to make that elixir or whatever. That’s what scientists do, right? They write down what they figure out.”

Casper’s blue eyes brightened. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right!” He grinned. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. Come on, let’s go look!”

The two of them hurried out of the room and through the many halls, making their way to through the secret door into the library. Kat sat in the familiar red chair, a small cloud of dust puffing up around her. As soon as the chair got down into the tunnel Kat hopped off. She’d had enough of the Up-And-At-Em machine the first time. Her boots clicked against the tracks as she followed the chair and Casper’s faint glow through the dark and winding tunnel. The tunnel eventually opened into the giant laboratory.

“Good thing it’s the start of the weekend,” Kat said as they approached a table stacked with folders and books. “It looks like this’ll take a while.”

* * *

As James entered his office a couple of days later, he looked around the empty library. “Stinkie?” he called.

No answer.

James caught sight of a book floating by itself up in the loft. “Hello?”

The book dropped to the floor and Stinkie made himself visible. “Doc,” he greeted. Stinkie phased through the floor and floated by him. “I still don’t see the point in this.”

“The point is making sure everyone is healthy and happy.” James tilted his head. “I just want to help.”

“What makes you think we want any help?” Stinkie asked. He burped up a green cloud and blew it in Jame’s direction with a snicker.

James coughed, fanning the noxious fumes away. Stinkie had a point, they’d never actually asked for his help. Still, he could see help was needed. “People don’t always realize they need help,” he replied. “Surely there’s something on your mind? Worries?”

“Nope. And don’t call me Shirley,” Stinkie cackled. He sat on James’ desk and shoved the papers off.

“Nothing at all?” James pushed, tamping down the mild annoyance.

Stinkie didn’t reply. Instead he picked up a paper that had remained on the desk and looked it over. After a few moments he spoke up, “Heard you asked Fatso about when we were alive.”

“I… did, yes, a little bit,” James said. He supposed it wasn’t breaking doctor-patient confidentiality if Fatso had brought it up himself.

“None of us remember a thing,” Stinkie said, crossing his arms.

James nodded. “And does that bother you?”

Stinkie shrugged. “Don’t think about it a lot.” He scratched at his head. “Guess it’s kinda weird we remember each other, and we know Casper. But that’s about it. I think we might’ve died around the same time, the three of us. Don’t know for sure, though.”

That was probably the most James had heard Stinkie speak at once. He’d write it all down later, but he didn’t want to stop the flow.

“Actually… I think I do remember somethin’…” Stinkie’s eyes widened a little.

“What?” James asked cautiously.

Stinkie frowned, thinking hard. He hovered above the desk, seemingly unaware of the fact. “I think… I think I remember Casper dyin’.” Stinkie’s voice came out quiet. “Not real good, but, I remember flyin’ through the halls. Then I heard somethin’, and I went to see what it was. Stretch and Fatso were there, too. Or… I know Stretch was.

“Anyways, like I said, I heard coughin’ or somethin’ like that. And we followed it to a room. When we got there Casper was there, lookin’ like the bulb-head he is,” Stinkie said. He shrugged, sinking back down to the desk. “But that’s it.”

“I see… And you remembered Casper was your nephew?”

Stinkie nodded. “Yep. We were here pretty much since we died, I think. Probably helped us remember that much.” He frowned. “Huh. I don’t even remember how I died.”

James understood that much. Granted, he’d been drunk when he died, but he couldn’t even remember much of the events leading up to it. Given so much time had passed, he wasn’t surprised Stinkie couldn’t remember his death.

“We done here, Doc?” Stinkie asked with a frown.

“Huh? Oh… Yeah, I think that’s enough for now. Thank you for being open with me,” James replied with a small smile. It seemed he’d been right in assuming that, one-on-one the Trio was more likely to open up and be at least a little vulnerable.

Stinkie floated out of the room with a muttered, “Whatever.”

* * *

James, Kat, and Casper had taken on the job of cleaning up the media room. At least, that’s what James was dubbing it, since that was where the TV was and living room felt… insensitive. The Trio had objected at first, liking how dusty and gross it was, but they eventually gave in when James pointed out it would be good for everyone’s mental health to have a clean space. Not that they cared much about that, but James figured that, because they were friends, the Trio allowed it without much more fuss.

Kat and Casper had left a little bit ago after moving the couch and chair around, so James was tasked with finishing the job. He opened up the windows to allow in some fresh air. It didn’t last very long, as it started to snow. But it was nice. The room didn’t smell musty and the sunlight brightened the space. The couch was now facing the TV with the chair off to one said so that they could all sit together, instead of one person hogging the space. 

“Ya done messin’ the place up?” Stretch sneered, leading the Trio into the room via the floor.

James gave an amused huff. “Yes, it’s done. But I think it’s a lot more inviting now, don’t you?” he asked, gesturing around the room.

“ _Eugh._ Inviting? Who wants that?” Stinkie asked with a grimace. “And it don’t smell in here no more! It took decades to get the right stench!”

Fatso sat in the chair that had been moved off to one side. “Well, at least the chair’s still comfy.”

“I know you guys are used to the way things have been,” James sympathized. “But some change is healthy. And with more than just yourselves inhabiting the space, it’s best for everyone to feel comfortable. If it makes you feel any better, we won’t touch your room, and if there’s any space that isn’t shared with us, you can keep it as filthy as you like.”

Stretch floated up behind James, griping his shoulders. “All this talk about health and shit… Doc, you’re a stick in the mud. Ya really should get a life while ya have it,” he snickered. The other two joined in.

“Let loose,” Stinkie said, nodding as he floated over.

“Take a load off,” Fatso agreed.

James craned his neck to look at Stretch. “Being a parapsychologist and a father  _is_ my life,” he pointed out. “Besides, the last time I “let loose” it didn’t exactly end well for me.”

The Trio, surprisingly, looked guilty.

“Hey, guys, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” James apologized, patting first Stretch’s hand, then Stinkie’s back. He smiled. “It’s not like you knew there was a giant hole outside the doors and were planning to kill me.”

“Of course not,” Stretch said, drawing his words out as if to emphasize just how absurd a suggestion that was. “Us? Try an’  _kill_ you? We may be assholes, Doc, but we ain’t usually murderers.”

Stinkie gave an awkward laugh. “Yeah…”

James nodded, silently filing the “not usually murderers” part away in his mind for later examination. “And anyway, my family’s health is important to me. And you guys are part of that,” he said with a warm smile. As strange as the situation was, and how completely opposite they were from him, James meant it.

Stretch recoiled. “ _Ugh._ There ya go gettin’ all  _emotional_ on us again,” he complained.

“Gross,” Fatso grunted, crossing his arms. 

Stinkie pretended to gag.

Despite their reactions, James could see they didn’t actually mind his comment. He decided to keep that to himself, however, as pointing it out would only make them annoyed. James didn’t mind, though, he knew they cared, even if they’d never admit it. But he was determined to work on that. One day he hoped they wouldn’t mind being a little more open.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments and kudos! I hope you all enjoy this next chapter. :)

There were a ton of journals and papers that J.T. McFadden had written about his experiments. Not just for the Lazarus, but for the Up-And-At-Em Machine, and other named and unnamed inventions. But of course, the only ones Kat and Casper were interested in were the ones regarding the Lazarus.

Then there were blueprints, notes that had been scribbled over and crossed out and corrected with doodles in the margins, there were books on machinery and scientific things Kat had no idea about that were marked up with theories and questions.

“This is gonna take forever,” Kat groaned, flipping through pages. _And_ she still had homework to do.

Casper looked up from where he had his head buried in a book. Almost literally. “We’ve got time, Kat. My dad’s gotta have the answers here somewhere.”

“I know.” Kat sighed, setting her own notebook down on the desk. “It’d be better if I was any good at science.”

And so Kat went about taking her own notes; which books or journals were useless, which ones looked promising, and anything else important that she could think of. She tried to keep it all organized, and she thought she did a pretty good job. Having a parapsychologist as a dad did have its advantages. While she’d never been great at keeping her personal stuff neat, her notes always were.

“Kat?” Casper started.

Kat rubbed her strained eyes and turned to look at him. “Yeah?”

“Do you… Do you think we’ll still hang out when I’m alive?” Casper asked, looking up at her with big uncertain blue eyes.

“What? Yeah, of course,” Kat said, brows raised. “Why wouldn’t we?”

Casper shrugged. “I don’t know. It was just something I was thinking about. I guess ‘cause I wondered if me being a ghost made me more… interesting. You seem so cool, Kat, and I’m just… me.”

Kat set the book she’d been looking at down and crouched beside him. “Hey, you’re pretty cool,” she said with a smile. “And not because you’re a ghost. You’ll probably be pretty popular in school, too, when you’re alive again.”

“Huh, really?” Casper laughed. “I don’t know if that’s something I care about. Just as long as we’re friends.”

“Well then don’t worry about it, okay? We’ll be friends forever,” Kat replied. She held up her pinky. “Promise.”

Casper’s eyes widened, then he grinned, hooking his pinky through hers. “Promise.”

* * *

Fatso brought along his own snacks to the next session. Beyond that, he seemed to be in his usual good mood. James even said as much.

“Look, Doc, these sessions or whatever really don’t need to happen,” Fatso said through a mouthful of muffin as he floated through the library. “I already know what’s wrong with me.”

James blinked. “Well, first, there’s nothing “wrong” with you. Everyone has some sort of struggle they deal with, but that doesn’t mean it’s wrong,” he said with a smile. “But what is it you think is “wrong”?”

Fatso gave him a funny look before dropping down the couch. “You’re the doc, Doc, shouldn’t you already know?” He chuckled. “But fine, I’ll tell ya. I’ve got that thing—manic-depression? Yeah, that. I didn’t wanna say nothin’ before ‘cause I’d feel bad if you felt useless.” 

It was unclear if Fatso was being genuine in his excuse, or whether he was trying to insult James. Probably both. Even so, he didn’t respond to the potential bait. Of course, through general observation and what Fatso had told him before, James had figured Fatso might have bipolar disorder. “How did you come to find that out?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“TV. We all did. We’ve had a whole after-life to watch a bunch of stuff and sometimes we learned things,” Fatso replied vaguely, shoving another muffin into his mouth. It fell through him onto the ground under his tail.

“Ah, I see.” James made a note. He leaned back in his chair. “Well, there are ways to treat it. For a living patient, there are medications to help bipolar disorder—manic-depression—but given your situation, the only treatment I’d be able to recommend is therapy.”

Fatso stared at him blankly, munching away.

James shifted in his seat. “You mentioned Stretch and Stinkie are aware of your condition. Has their treatment of you changed since then?”

“Nope,” Fatso replied. “Why? Does it matter?”

“Because a negative environment can make your symptoms worse,” James explained. “I’ve noticed they tend to insult you a lot. Especially Stretch. Of course, teasing is normal and expected with brothers, but there are still lines that shouldn’t be crossed.”

“Huh?” Fatso frowned, confused. “What’re you sayin’?”

James leaned forward, brows furrowed. “Aren’t you bothered when they make fun of you?”

Fatso didn’t respond at first, simply eating a doughnut from his handful of food. Then he shrugged. “Most of the time it’s fine. Guess it can be a little bit much sometimes…”

“Is there something in particular you don’t like?” James prompted.

“Implyin’ I’m dumb,” Fatso said. It hadn’t taken him even a moment to think about. “I know I’m not as smart as Stretch or even Stinkie, but I’m not stupid, neither.”

James smiled. “Of course you’re not stupid.”

Fatso’s brows rose, then he frowned, his eyes narrowing. “You’re not just sayin’ that, are ya?”

“No,” James replied, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t do that to you, as a friend or therapist.”

“Oh.”

“But this is something that can be worked on,” James said, making a note. “I think it would be good for everyone if we were all nicer to each other anyway.”

Fatso snorted. “Good luck with that. ‘Sides, sometimes bein’ mean is fun,” he laughed.

James sighed, adjusting his glasses. “Have you ever heard of the Golden Rule?”

“Nope,” Fatso said.

“While I know you and you’re brothers aren’t fond of rules, I think this one is something to keep in mind. Treat others how you would like to be treated,” James explained with a small smile. “First, I think being positive to yourself could be beneficial. And then practice being at least a little nicer to others. They’ll be more inclined to do the same, especially if I can bring the same rule to _their_ attention.”

Fatso shrugged, but his expression was thoughtful. “I guess.”

“Great!” James beamed. “I’d also like to discuss establishing a routine, among other things. It’s been proven to be helpful for your condition.”

* * *

It was finally time to have a chat with Stretch. James had been trying to get him to agree to a session, except Stretch had evaded him for a few days. He hadn’t been able to convince Stinkie of a second session either. But yesterday he had gotten Stretch to agree to one. Considering how well things had gone with Stinkie and Fatso, James didn’t have high hopes for Stretch’s.

James looked at his watch, then around the room. He wouldn’t put it past Stretch to have been hiding in there somewhere, watching as James wasted his time waiting. The double doors flew open with a crash, causing James to jump out of his seat.

“What’s up, Doc?” Stretch drawled, floating into the room chomping down on a carrot. He laughed at his own joke as he tossed the rest of it behind him where it smacked into the doors. “I didn’t _scare_ ya, did I?”

“O-of course not.” James cleared his throat and sat back down. If there was one thing Stretch liked better than making someone look like an idiot, it was a dramatic entrance. He should’ve expected it.

Stretch grinned, clearly able to tell James was lying.

“Ah, well, I suppose we should get started,” James said, clasping his hands together. “Why don’t you tell me how you’re feeling today?”

The look Stretch gave him was unimpressed. “Lemme stop ya there, Doc,” he said, hands on his hips. “You realize this whole thing’s pointless, right? We already know we’re fucked in the head.”

James’ eyes widened. “I wouldn’t phrase it like that…”

Ignoring him, Stretch continued. “Like Fatso, he’s got that manic-depression thing, and Stinkie… I have no clue what his issue is, honestly, except the whole thing about feet… Me? I’m a schizo and I think I got that split-personalities thing.”

James nodded slowly. “Fatso did tell me about that. Well, his bipolar disorder, and that you’d all found a way to diagnose yourselves,” he said. “You’ve been around a while, plenty of time to do your own research. I guess I just didn’t take you for the self-reflective type.”

 _“Tch._ Didn’t anyone ever tell ya not to make assumptions? It makes an ass outta you and me,” Stretch snickered.

“True,” James agreed with a laugh of his own. “Though, I think I can say with some certainty you don’t have a split personality.”

“Whattya mean?” Stretch demanded, crossing his arms.

“I’m not exactly an expert on that particular issue, but I know enough to say I haven’t seen a sign of the symptoms,” James explained. “Those with split personalities generally have names for those personalities. They sort of take over the host, so-to-speak, and none of them will remember what the others have done while in control. Is that something you’ve experienced?”

Stretch rubbed his chin. “… No.”

“There. I think we can safely assume that’s not one of your conditions,” James said with a smile. It faded after a moment. “However… the other one does make sense. I wonder…”

“Wonder what?” Stretch asked, eyes narrowing.

James leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees. “Bipolar disorder and schizophrenia are both genetic. It’s likely one of your parents or theirs had these as well. And it makes me wonder if Casper might’ve inherited any of these disorders.” He adjusted his glasses, then shrugged. “We won’t know, though. The signs usually don’t show up until the later teens years or even early adulthood.”

Stretch frowned. “Ya think Casper could be anythin’ like us?”

“I don’t know for sure,” James replied, shaking his head. “There’s a high probability, especially if his dad also had any of these conditions himself. But like I said, if they were to show up, it would happen when he’s a bit older. Given the circumstances, however…”

“Hm.” Stretch hovered in place for a moment, frowning off into the distance. Then he turned back to James, circling the chair. “Why are you doin’ this?” he asked. “If ya ain’t tryin’ to move us on, what’s the point?”

It seemed that despite his assurances that wasn’t the case, Stretch didn’t really believe him. Well, paranoia was one of the possible symptoms of schizophrenia. That was definitely what was being exhibited right now. James would have to be patient when it came to that, and hopefully they could work through it. “Because we’re friends, aren’t we? And as your friends, I want to help you.”

Stretch stopped in front of him, craning his neck forward. “Ya say that, but it seems more like ya think we’re nothin’ more than patients to ya.”

James opened his mouth to protest, then quickly shut it again. Had he really been acting that way? Thinking back on things… Yes. He had. James had claimed they were friends, and he _did_ believe it, but hadn’t actually been acting that way. No wonder Stretch was feeling paranoid, and James wasn’t helping it one bit despite his intentions. He looked up at Stretch. “You’re right.”

Stretch looked surprised, but only for a moment, and then his usual sneer returned to his face. “’Course I’m right. I’m always right.”

“I’m sorry,” James said, standing. He shook his head and sighed. “I guess I’m so used to having patients instead of friends that I got caught up in routine.” James held out his hand. “How about we start over? No more one-on-one sessions. We can hang out as friends, like we should’ve been from the start.”

Stretch looked James over, suspicious and clearly looking for any deception. Finding none, he took his hand and shook it. “I’ll hold ya to it, Doc.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: The diagnoses of the Trio come from the lyrics of the cut song "Lucky Enough to be a Ghost", which if you haven't heard, you can find on youtube.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kind comments and kudos! :D Hope you all like this chapter, too.

“Kat?” James called, opening the doors to the library. He’d already checked the other likely places for her with no luck. And there she was, sitting in the middle of the floor surrounded by books. “Hey, honey, you working on homework?”

Kat glanced up at him. “Hm? Oh, uh, yeah. Homework.”

James nodded. “Alright. Will you and Casper be fine here for a bit by yourselves?”

“Yep,” Kat replied, already back to looking through a book.

“Okay.” James leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll be back later and we’ll have supper.”

When Kat just gave a distracted hum in response, James gave an amused huff and left. He joined Stretch, Stinkie, and Fatso in the foyer. “So, what’s the plan for tonight, boys?” James asked with a smile.

“Well, we have to a find a new bar,” Stretch said with a shrug. He lead the way out the front doors. “So until then, we found another place to have fun.”

To say James was surprised when they pulled into the mini golf place would be an understatement. He had to remind himself, however, that just because golf seemed like something the Trio would find boring didn’t mean that was the case. James wasn’t surprised by the fact the place was practically empty. Not many people wanted to golf at night in the middle of January.

James paid for the use of the clubs and balls, smiling politely in response to the girl behind the counter’s incredulous look, and brought them over to the first hole. He would really have to find a job soon. As he handed them over to the Trio, a question bubbled up in his mind. “I’ve been wondering… I know you guys sort of eat, but what happens when you drink? Can you still get drunk?”

“Nope,” Stinkie replied, dropping his ball at the start on the green.

“Unfortunately,” Fatso sighed.

Stretch knocked Stinkie’s ball out of the way and replaced it with his own. He ignored Stinkie’s complaints about it and hit the ball. “It’s just somethin’ to do,” he told James. The ball bounced off the wall of a windmill and rolled backwards. Stretch grumbled in annoyance as Stinkie took his first shot.

“Ah.” James figured that made sense. Like eating, it was probably just some sense of normalcy in their afterlife. Fatso and then James took their own first puts.

“Also it’s fun to scare the bonebags who _are_ drunk,” Fatso chuckled. He shrugged. “Eh, sometimes. Sometimes they’re too drunk to notice.”

Stinkie grinned. “But they always throw up the easiest.”

“Eatin’ and sleepin’, though, those actually do somethin’,” Stretch added. “We get some kinda energy from it. Took a while to figure that one out.”

“Really?” James asked, surprised.

“Yeah, we went a while without eatin’ once, felt like crap ‘til we ate somethin’,” Stretch replied.

“Eight months and three days” Fatso interjected.

“Of course _you’d_ remember that.” Stretch rolled his eyes. “Anyways, we’re stronger after we eat or sleep.” He floated back over, having gotten his ball in the hole and allowing Stinkie to take his next turn. “What about _you_ , Doc? Ya get drunk often? Seems like ya only really let yourself have fun when ya do.”

James shook his head. “No…” He watched his breath drift into the night sky. “The last time I did—well, second to last time—was right after Amelia…” James looked at his friends with a sad half-smile. “Kat had to pick me up off the bathroom floor. I swore after that I would find another way to deal with my problems.”

“Wow. Dark,” Fatso commented. Despite the nonchalance of his tone, he did actually seem bothered. It disappeared quickly, though.

“Heh, yeah. Well, I guess that’s why I went a little wild with you guys,” James said, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s been a while since I had any real friends.”

Stretch rested his elbow on James’ shoulder. “Alright, then. Guess we’re gonna have to help ya make up for lost time,” he smirked.

James’ smile widened. “Sounds good.”

“Four!” Stinkie shouted, whacking the ball hard. It bounced off a dinosaur and crashed through the window of a nearby building. The ghosts burst into laughter.

“Perhaps not _that_ much fun,” James muttered.

Stretch snorted. “Don’t get yer panties in a twist, Doc. We’ll handle it if they have a problem,” he assured with a mischievous grin, ruffling James’ hair.

Fatso went next, and then finally James took his second turn. He tried to concentrate, but it was a little difficult when it felt like he was being watched. James caught Stretch staring him down out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t seem mad or like he was planning anything, just… watching.

“So, uh, have you guys run into any other ghosts around here?” James asked after a bit. “You guys and Casper are the only ones I’ve really come across.”

Stinkie sighed. “I wish. Especially a few chicks? That’d be the best,” he said with a leer. Fatso nodded eagerly.

“We’ve come across a couple others outta town, but they’re usually boring,” Stretch explained.

James nodded. “That’s too bad,” he said sympathetically. “Well, if we ever run into some nice lady ghosts, I’ll happily play wing man.”

“That’s nice of ya, Doc,” Stinkie said, flying around him to get to his ball. A cigar appeared in his hand, which he lit and stuck in his mouth before making his put.

“Only right if we do the same. There’s some real pretty fleshies ‘round here,” Fatso added, waggling his eyebrows.

Stretch’s lip curled in a sneer. “Don’t go botherin’ the guy you dimwits.” He smacked them both upside the head. “He’s probably still grievin’ over his wife.”

“Hm. It’s a little strange,” James spoke up, looking out at the frozen water trap. “I miss her—of course I do—but it’s like, after we spoke I’ve felt more… at peace? It doesn’t hurt as much, I guess. But I’m definitely not looking to be set up with anyone, thanks.”

“Probably for the best,” Fatso said, floating by. “We’ve scared most of the bonebags here anyway.”

“Exactly!” Stretch snapped his fingers for emphasis. He swung his club up over his shoulder. “And ain’t no broad comin’ between friends. If they can’t handle us, there’s no point.”

James smiled. “Right.”

* * *

Kat groaned as she looked over J.T.’s notes. She _really_ wasn’t the science type. But at least she had found something; a list of ingredients used in the potion or elixir or whatever that the Lazarus used.

“What’s wrong?” Casper asked, peering over her shoulder.

“What’s wrong is these ingredients are weird. I don’t know what any of them are,” Kat said, leaning back in the red chair. “Are they even here?”

Casper looked over the list Kat gave him. “Lemme take a look,” he said with a smile. Casper flew off, looking over the various tables and shelves within the lab. “Uhh… Check… Check… Check… Hmm. I think we’re missing a couple of things, but we have most of it.”

Kat got up, walking over to the table where Casper set the various bottles of chemicals. She picked up one filled with clear liquid, shook it a little, set it back down and picked up another filled with a pale yellow liquid. “It feels like we’re missing something somewhere. There weren’t any measurements or clear instructions. How do we know what to mix?”

“Good question.” Casper tapped his chin, thinking. “Maybe we should just try something out. Experiment a little. It’s probably what my dad did.”

“I guess.” Kat moved some flasks and beakers over to the table.

“Oops! Wait a second!” Casper took off, disappearing through a small door. It opened and he returned, carrying a lab coat, gloves, and some very large goggles. “Safety first!”

Kat smiled and grabbed the coat. “Thanks.” She pulled it on over her black cardigan, then the gloves, and finally she snapped the goggles into place. Kat grimaced wiping the dust off the front. “Okay, so… should I just start mixing things?”

“Just a little bit. We don’t wanna waste it if we get it wrong,” Casper replied, hovering over her.

Kat nodded. She picked up one of the bottles and uncorked it. The smell made her eyes water and she wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Ugh, is that sulfur?” 

“What are you doin’!?” Before Kat could tip the stuff into the flask in front of her, Stinkie swooped by, snatching the bottle from her hands.

“Uncle Stinkie?” Casper gasped, eyes wide.

Stinkie glared down at them. “I asked what you were doin’.”

Kat frowned. “What’s it matter to you? Why are  _you_ here?”

“Doc was lookin’ for ya. You weren’t anywhere else, so I figured I’d check here. Ya shouldn’t be messin’ with this stuff,” Stinkie snapped, corking the bottle. “What if ya blew the house up? Or killed yourself?”

“You care if I die?” Kat asked, bewildered.

Stinkie blinked, almost as if he were confused by his own reaction, then sneered. “Just scram already.”

Kat felt his stare all the way back up the tunnel.

* * *

James set the board games down on the kitchen table. A family game night seemed like something that would be good for everyone. Have some fun, a few laughs, get some conversations going. At least, he hoped so.

“We’ve got here a few choices,” James said, flashing a smile at the others as he patted the top box. “Monopoly, Clue, Mousetrap, Parcheesi, Boggle. Then I dug out the Old Maid and Uno cards, too.”

“How long have you been carrying these around?” Kat asked with an amused huff.

James shrugged. “I was hoping we might have a use for them again some day. And now we do. It’ll be more fun with more people.”

“Do ya get to trap real mice with this?” Stinkie asked, holding up Mouse Trap.

“Uh, no,” James replied, brows furrowed.

Scoffing, Stinkie dropped the box back on the table.

“Clue… this is that murder mystery game, ain’t it?” Stretch asked, moving the other boxes aside. “The one that movie was based on.”

James’ eyes widened and he nodded. “Yeah, exactly.”

“Sounds like fun to me,” Fatso commented.

Casper grinned. “Yeah, that was a good movie.”

James cleared off the table and set up the board while Kat read the instructions aloud. He set out the pieces and put the three chosen cards that were tucked into the little envelope into the center. “Alright everyone, choose your piece.”

Kat scooped up Ms. White, while Stretch chose Professor Plum, Stinkie Mr. Green, Fatso Colonel Mustard, and Casper took Mrs. Peacock. That left James with Ms. Scarlett, which meant he went first. 

“Nice choice, Doc,” Stretch said with a leer.

James wasn’t quite sure how to respond. So he ignored it. Likely Stretch was just trying to get a reaction, which he wouldn’t provide. After dealing the cards he rolled the die and took his turn.

It started off a little slow, but then it began to pick up as everyone relaxed. 

“I think it was Professor Plum in the Billiard Room with the Wrench,” Casper said, moving Stretch’s piece into said room.

“Hey! I was almost in the Kitchen, short-sheet!” Stretch complained. He extended his arms across the table to give Casper a noogie. 

Casper giggled. “Yeah, I know.”

Stretch blinked, then smirked. “Huh, maybe you ain’t completely hopeless after all,” he said.

James, who was to his left, held up one of his cards to Casper. “Here you go.”

“Thanks!” Casper noted it down on his little brown notepad. 

After several rounds of the Trio, Casper, and even James purposefully moving everyone around the board to mess them up, Kat called for attention. “I’m making an accusation! I know who did it!” she declared. “It was Colonel Mustard in the Lounge with the Rope.”

With a grin, Kat checked the envelope. She brandished the cards in victory. “Ha! I was right.”

“Aw man,” Fatso pouted.

“How’d you manage to guess that? I wasn’t even close,” Stinkie asked.

Kat shrugged. “If you guys weren’t all so busy messing with each other, you might’ve gotten it, too,” she said with a smirk.

“Yeah, yeah, just don’t go gettin’ a big head, bonebag,” Stretch grumbled, slapping his notepad onto the table.

“You mean like yours?” Kat retorted, grinning.

“Okay, that’s enough,” James interrupted before Stretch could retaliate. The two stuck their tongues out at each other but let it go.  _Well_ , he thought,  _they don’t seem too angry with each other. That’s some progress._

They put away the game before pulling out Boggle. However, James decided to call the night early when the Trio used it as an excuse to write down all the raunchy and foul words they could find. Still, he considered the night a success.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kind comments! I super appreciate it!

While it was true that James worked with ghosts for a living, he still wasn’t the best with horror movies. So he surprised himself when he agreed to join Stretch, Stinkie, and Fatso and watch _The Evil Dead_ at the drive-in. James figured the Trio would have a running commentary making fun of everything about the movie, and hopefully that’d be enough of a distraction from the gore.

After they stopped at a McDonald’s to grab burgers and fries and shakes, James headed right for the drive-in. It was mostly deserted, and the few other cars that were there were spaced pretty far apart. Stinkie and Fatso grabbed their meals and left the car to sit on the roof instead.

James noticed Stretch didn’t follow. “Aren’t you going to go with them? I’m sure the view will be better from up there.”

“Nah. ‘Sides, if I went then who’ll be in here to bug you?” Stretch replied with a smirk.

“Fair point,” James chuckled. He knew by now Stretch’s teasing and mischief wasn’t malicious. Towards him and Kat anyway. Even if his daughter and Stretch didn’t necessarily get along, they didn’t seem to hate each other either, which James was glad of.

At first the movie was okay, but just as he knew it would be, the gore was hard to watch. James could hear Stinkie and Fatso cackling and guffawing on the roof, but even that wasn’t much help. Still, he tried not to show his discomfort. Then again, maybe having Stretch make fun of him would be a good distraction.

Something cold passed across the back of James’ neck, making it break out in goosebumps. Out of the corner of his eye he could see that Stretch had leaned back in his seat and draped his arm over the headrests. And around James’ shoulders.

James blinked, staring straight ahead. It had to have been an accident. Some guys just liked to spread out when they sat, and Stretch definitely seemed like that type. The car was small and there were only so many ways _to_ spread out, so it was just that.

Right.

He ignored the small shiver that ran up his spine that had nothing to do with Stretch’s chilly arm. And it was nothing like when he went on his first date with Amelia. Nope. James focused on the movie instead.

Immediately he regretted it. James grimaced at the blood on screen.

“Too much for ya, Doc?” Stretch asked with a grin.

“Uh. N-no, well, maybe a little,” James said.

Stretch laughed. “Never would’ve guessed a little blood would bother ya. Ya don’t see enough of it workin’ with us ghosts?” He sounded genuinely curious.

James adjusted his glasses. “Truth be told, no. If I’m being honest, you three and Casper were the first ghosts I actually ever _saw_ ,” he explained. “Before you, I’d only ever contacted them through Ouija boards. Or even mediums.”

“Huh.” Stretch’s eyebrows rose. “So we’re you’re first real ghosts, huh? What an honor.” He snickered.

“It’s certainly been an enlightening experience,” James replied with a small smile. “I know things started off kind of rocky, but I am glad to have met you guys.”

Stretch leered at him, leaning a little closer. “Is that right?” His violet eyes seemed to flash.

James could feel a tell-tale heat creeping into his face and was very glad for the darkness in the car. “Yep!” he said, a little too cheerily, and quickly looked away.

* * *

As soon as the final bell rang, Kat was on her way. She ignored the other students who still gave her freaked out looks and a wide berth whenever she passed. Stinkie had been right. They shouldn’t mess with chemicals without understanding what they could do. Which is why she was glad she had taken her bike to school that morning, so her dad wouldn’t wonder why she took so long to show up.

“Mr. Stein?” Kat called into the science lab, knocking on the open door.

Mr. Stein, a bald middle-aged man who seemed to have a variety of colorful bow ties, looked up from where he was going through papers at his desk. “Ms. Harvey. Is everything alright?”

Kat nodded. “Yeah, yep. Just, I had something I wanted to ask you about, if that’s okay?”

“Of course. What’s the question?”

She pulled the list of chemicals out of her backpack and held it out. “I wanted to ask about these. Uh… a friend of my dad’s is working on an experiment. I was curious about the chemicals he was using. What they do,” Kat said. She really hoped he didn’t ask questions, she hadn’t completely thought it through.

“Huh.” Mr. Stein looked over the list, thick brows furrowed. “This is certainly a strange list. Some of these are stimulants… then there’s potassium, sulfur, chlorine, magnesium…”

Kat scuffed her sneaker against the linoleum tiles. “Would any of those be dangerous to mix together?”

Mr. Stein shook his head. “No, but this really is strange. Some of these are found in the human body… What exactly is your dad’s friend trying to do?” he asked, looking up at Kat with a frown.

“Oh, uh, I don’t know? That’s why I wanted to ask you about them. I was curious,” Kat replied with a smile.

“Hmm. I’d recommend staying away from whatever it is. Even though these aren’t dangerous together, if he starts mixing in other things, it could easily get that way,” Mr. Stein said, standing up. He handed her the list. “Alright?”

“Sure,” Kat lied. “I’ll be careful.”

That night found Kat on the computer that had been set up in one of the downstairs rooms. She supposed the Trio was interested enough in what they could get out of it to let the people who set it up do their jobs, instead of scaring them out of the manor. As she waited for the dial-up to finish its raspy screeching, she looked over the list again. They had sulfur and potassium and a bit of the magnesium. What they needed was the chlorine and amino acids, something called _p_ -Synephrine, ginko, and docosahexaenoic acid.

As soon as the internet was up, Kat got to researching.

“Finding anything helpful?” Casper asked as he floated into the room.

“Sort of. I figured out what some of these things on the list are, anyway,” Kat said, finishing the notes she’d taken. “We can get the amino acids from meat or eggs. Eggs might be easier. If we can get some mandarin oranges or clementines we’d be able to get the snep… snynepr… synephrine.” Kat shook her head. “This other acid that I’m not even going try and pronounce is in fish, so also easy. Gingko is the only thing I don’t know how we’d get.”

Casper nodded. “Okay, so we just need to bring eggs, mandarin oranges, and fish into the lab, right? There should be a way to get the stuff inside with the tools my dad had.”

Kat sighed, leaning back in the leather chair. “Yeah, hopefully.” A thought struck. “My teacher said some of the things on the list are “stimulants”. I remember learning in a class one year that coffee is a stimulant. Maybe we can replace the gingko with some coffee?”

“That’s a good idea! We can try it, anyway,” Casper agreed with a smile.

* * *

James sat at his desk, the glow from the little green lamp the only light in the library. He stared down at the papers, the bills, and sighed. James really hadn’t thought things through, and now the consequences were coming back to bite him in the ass.

“You’re up late, Doc,” Stretch said from behind him.

James yelped, jumping in his seat. He groaned, rubbing his temples. “Stretch, please, I need a warning at least sometimes. Unless you’re trying to give me a heart-attack?”

Stretch floated beside him, arms crossed. “Not yet.”

“Very funny,” James muttered.

“What stick’s up your ass tonight?” Stretch asked, leaning over to look at the papers.

James leaned back in his chair, reaching up under his glasses to rub his eyes. He sighed again and looked at Stretch. “I wasn’t thinking when I bought this place.”

Stretch’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean? Ya ain’t leavin’, are ya?”

“Huh? No. No…” James shook his head. “We’re staying. I just meant, I don’t have a job.”

“I thought you were a therapist or whatever?” Stretch asked, leaning against the desk.

James tipped his head back and forth. “Parapsychologist. Meaning I work with ghosts, not the living,” he replied, leaning forward again. He rested his chin in his hand. “I promised Kat this would be the last job. That if I found Amelia, I wouldn’t go around America psychoanalyzing ghosts anymore. But that means we’ve only got a little bit of money that’s quickly running out.”

“Wow, this is really getting’ to ya,” Stretch muttered. He scratched his head. “So why don’tcha become a therapist to fleshies?”

James blinked. He could have slapped himself. “I… don’t know why I didn’t think of that. But I’d have to go back to college. Which I’m not sure if I should. I need to save up what money I can for Kat’s college fund.” He shrugged and sat up. “I’ll think about it. But until then, I’ll have to look for something temporary in town.”

“Well, glad ya worked that out,” Stretch said. “Thought maybe you were gonna have some kinda meltdown or somethin’.”

That got a laugh out of James. “Thanks, Stretch.”

“For what?”

“For listening.” James smiled at him.

Stretch grumbled something, rolled his eyes, and flew out of the room.

* * *

Cleaning up the manor was turning out to be a long project. James had cleaned up his and Kat’s rooms in the first few days, and the kitchen and dining room had taken four days even with Casper’s help. The prospect of cleaning all the halls, the library, the attic, and the multiple rooms he didn’t have any idea about was daunting. It would take months, at the least.

James was sifting through the books, papers, and the odd box that had appeared in the library. He figured Kat must have found it somewhere and brought it here. Why, he had no clue. Most of the books were about various scientific theories and old medical texts. It must have been some homework assignment for her to need all that. As for the box, it had several more books, an old cigar box, and a framed photo.

“What’s this?” James asked himself, pulling the photo from the box.

It was an old black-and-white photo depicting three men in suits standing in front of what looked like old pipes. The man in front was large, chubby-cheeks even more prominent due to his wide grin, with a Charlie Chaplin mustache and bowler hat. Just behind him was a young man with a clean-shaven face, bright eyes, and a big buck-toothed grin. He seemed to be wearing a boater hat that was tipped back enough to show a bit of his hair. The final and tallest man stood a little off to one side. His fedora was tipped slightly, casting a bit of a shadow over his eyes and hooked nose. His Van Dyke beard and the style of his suit seemed a bit older than the other two’s style. Late Victorian almost.

James was sure this was a photo of Stretch, Stinkie, and Fatso when they were alive. The similarities were obvious, though at the same time they didn’t look quite how he’d have imagined. An idea struck. James flipped the picture over and he opened the back of the frame. Sure enough, there was writing on the back. He pulled it out to take a better look.

“Sam ‘Stretch’ McFadden, ‘Stinkie’ Peter McFadden, and ‘Fatso’ Joe McFadden. Whipstaff Manor, 1930,” James read, eyes widening. It _was_ them. He flipped the photo back over to take another look. They seemed happy, like they were having fun together. Stretch—Sam—seemed a little more serious than the other two, though his smirk was unmistakable.

Another thought came to James, then. He knew their names. It hadn’t really occurred to him before, but now that he knew, it was possible to look them up. The library might have some information on them, or their obituaries at least. Hell, he might even be able to find their graves if they were buried in the local cemetery.

James tapped the photo against the palm of his hand. Would they be mad if he did that? Dug into their past? He was insanely curious, but it was rude to go behind their backs about it. It was decided.

“Stretch! Stinkie! Fatso!” James called as he wandered out into the foyer. “Guys?” James climbed the stairs, walking down one of the halls. “Hello?”

“What’s with the yellin’?” Stretch demanded, leading Stinkie and Fatso through a wall.

James came to a sudden halt to avoid passing through them. He smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. But I found something that I think will interest you,” James said, holding up the photo. “It was in a box that I think Kat came across.”

Stretch took the photo and squinted at it. “A picture?” He tilted it this way and that, uncaring that Stinkie and Fatso were also trying to see.

“Kinda looks familiar,” Stinkie said.

“It should.” James gestured for them to flip it around. “It’s you three.”

Stretch turned the photo over and looked at the back. The three ghosts looked surprised. Stretch flipped it back around.

“Huh. How come we’ve never seen this?” Fatso asked, scratching his head.

“Not like we were lookin’ for it,” Stinkie pointed out.

“It does prove I was always the handsome one of us,” Stretch snarked, cackling at the glares he received from the other two. He stared at the picture again, expression unreadable.

James rested his hands on his hips. “Well, since we now know you’re real names, would you rather we called you by those, instead of the nicknames?”

Stretch gave a derisive snort, looking down at James. “Nah. I’ve been goin’ by Stretch for so long, it’d be weird to be anythin’ else.”

“Yep.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, then. Just figured I’d ask,” James said with a smile. “There was something else I wanted to bring up, however.”

“Spit it out already,” Stretch told him, rolling his eyes.

“Right. Right.” James waved vaguely at the photo. “Since we know you’re given names now, I thought it would make learning about your life easier. I’m sure there’s records of you somewhere, and you probably have graves that you’d maybe like to visit?”

Fatso shrugged. “I don’t care. You guys?”

“Uhh…” Stinkie sunk towards the floor, not expanding any further on his thoughts.

Stretch shoved the picture back into James’ hands. “Why not? It’s somethin’ to do, ain’t it?” He floated over his head. “’Sides, I’m kinda curious. Maybe we were big shots when we were alive.”

“Yeah… Maybe we were!” Fatso agreed with an excited grin.

“Then let’s go!” Stretch grabbed James by the shoulders, turning and steering him down the hall. “Where to first?”

James nearly tripped over his own feet before getting a hold of himself and walking on his own. “I think the library is on the way to the cemetery. It’d make sense to go there first. But it’s late guys, the library isn’t open now. We can go tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There actually was supposed to be a scene where we see a photo of the Trio as humans, so I based their descriptions off of that. You can see the picture if you scroll to the bottom of this page: https://lostmediaarchive.fandom.com/wiki/Casper_Deleted_Scenes_(Lost_Scenes_From_1995_Film)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's reading, leaving comments/kudos, I super appreciate it!

James breathed a sigh of relief as the smell of French toast filled the kitchen. It had taken some work, and tips from Casper, but he was actually able to make food that was edible. He lifted the spatula to flip the bread and it slipped out of his grasp. “Ah, shoot!” James shook his head at himself. That’s what he got for forgetting to wash the egg off his hands. He quickly washed them, then bent to pick up the spatula.

An appreciative whistle made him jump. “What a view,” Stretch said.

“Excuse me?” James asked, eyes wide as he turned to face him.

Stretch merely wagged his eyebrows at him, not bothering to explain his remark. He was quickly distracted by Stinkie and Fatso floating into the kitchen a second later.

“Where’s the kid and short sheet?” Stinkie asked as they came to a stop by Stretch.

“At school. Casper decided to join her today,” James replied, turning back to the stove. He felt eyes on him, and he was pretty sure he knew who was staring. And where. “Uh. We can head out soon. I’m sure you guys would like to eat first.”

The cheers he got in response were answer enough.

Though they were invisible, James could practically feel the Trio following him through the big brick library. He was glad they’d gone along with his request and held back from terrorizing the librarian who was leading them towards the back.

“And here it is,” the librarian said, gesturing at the microfiche reader. “If you need any help with it, let me know.”

James watched the older woman walk off before getting to work. He pulled the handle, slid the first of fiche the librarian had given him under the glass, then pushed the handle back up.

“What exactly are ya lookin’ for?” Stretch asked, materializing beside him.

“Right now? Anything about the McFaddens in general,” James replied. “These are supposed to be scans of articles from around the 1920’s to the 1930’s. So something should pop up, since Casper’s father was a well known inventor in the area.”

Fatso plopped down in a nearby chair. “I don’t get why we had to come along,” he said, looking bored.

“And I still think we should give that old bonebag a heart-attack,” Stinkie snickered, sitting on top of the microfiche.

James shot him a look. “Please don’t.”

“He’s just kiddin’ around, ain’t ya Stinkie?” Stretch said, shooting his brother a look of annoyance. He leered at James. “Maybe you should do something about whatever crawled up yer ass, though.”

“Mhm,” James muttered, not taking it to heart. Something caught his eye. He rewound the film and zoomed in, then focused the lens. “Aha! Here’s something… Stretch’s obituary.”

The three ghosts gathered around him, and Stretch leaned over his head to get a better look.

_Sam ‘Stretch’ McFadden, 39, of Friendship Maine died September 8_ _th_ _, 1939 in a car accident. Mr. McFadden was born April 10_ _th_ _, 1900, in Newark Hospital, New Jersey and he had lived in Friendship since 1928. He bravely served our country in the World War during the year of 1918. He also worked as a salesman, an electrician, and mechanic._

_Survivors include three brothers, Peter, Joe, and J.T. McFadden, as well as one nephew, Casper McFadden. Closed casket services will be held at 11a.m at Whipstaff Manor, with Rev. Milton Finch officiating. Burial at the Bradford Point Cemetery, under the direction of Alan Jennings._

James looked up at Stretch, who was frowning at the obituary.

“Wow, Stretch, never would’ve took ya for the soldier type,” Stinkie said with a teasing smirk.

Stretch squinted at the article, then huffed and floated back. “I don’t even remember it. ‘Sides, people were drafted back then and didn’t have a choice.” His eyes widened, then narrowed again as he crossed his arms.

“What about us?” Fatso asked, looking curious. “Are ours in there?”

“Should be,” James replied. He scrolled through the fiches until he came across Stinkie’s. “Found Stinkie’s…”

_Peter ‘Stinkie’ McFadden, 37, of Friendship Maine, died of methane poisoning November 22_ _nd_ _, 1939 in his home at 8:30 p.m. at Whipstaff Manor. Mr. McFadden was born March 6_ _th_ _, 1902, in Newark Hospital, New Jersey. He worked as plumber and later a coal miner._

_He is survived by two brothers, Joe and J.T. McFadden, and a nephew, Casper McFadden. Open casket services will be held at 10 a.m. at Whipstaff Manor, with Rev. Milton Finch as the officiant. He will be buried at Bradford Point Cemetery, under the direction of Alan Jennings._

“That’s it?” Stinkie’s lips twisted down in disappointment. “Jeez, it’s like I did nothin’ interestin’.”

“I’m sure you did some fun things,” James assured, patting Stinkie’s transparent back.

Fatso popped through his chest, causing James to yelp, and hit the red button to skip through the fiches. “Ha! There I am!”

_Joe ‘Fatso’ McFadden, 37, of Friendship Maine, died of a heart attack June 15_ _th_ _, 1940 in Herring’s Herrings, where he worked as a chef. Mr. McFadden was born May 12_ _th_ _, 1903, in Newark Hospital, New Jersey._

_He is survived by one brother, J.T. McFadden, and a nephew, Casper McFadden. Open casket services will be held at 2 p.m. at Whipstaff Manor, officiated by Rev. Milton Finch. He will be buried at Bradford Point Cemetery, under the direction of Alan Jennings._

“Well… we know for sure you’re all in the same cemetery,” James said, extracting himself from Fatso. “We can head over there in a minute, if you guys still want to.”

The cemetery was deserted, apart from a few crows and a loud blue-jay. There were a few trees and bushes dotted along the snowy hills. Despite the lack of other visitors, it did appear that people had come by recently, with some of the headstones decorated with wreaths or winter appropriate plants.

James stopped in front of five headstones; Sam McFadden, Peter McFadden, Joe McFadden, Casper McFadden, and an Elsie McFadden. J.T.’s grave was strangely not there. James frowned. Could he have been buried at the asylum he’d been taken to? Considering the stigma around mental health at the time, James thought it likely. He pulled his coat sleeve down over his hand and gently brushed the snow from the tops of the headstones, revealing the moss that had long ago crept over the granite. While he wasn’t surprised that no-one visited their graves, he still felt they deserved some attention.

He looked down at the woman’s grave. Elsie McFadden had died in 1933, the same year Casper was born, according to his grave. She must have been his mother. James had wondered why Casper never brought her up, but if she had died the same year he was born—had she died giving birth?—then he wouldn’t have known her.

Fatso floated over to his grave and looked down at his headstone. “Ya know, even when I read about it, I didn’t actually remember dyin’. But… I think I’m remembering now.” He frowned. “I was workin’ overtime…”

* * *

Joe rushed through the kitchen of the little seafood restaurant, getting everything ready for the next day. He could have left, gone home an hour ago and dealt with it all in the morning, but he didn’t. As he had for the past several months since Sam and then Peter had died, Joe only wanted to focus on his job. It was the only thing he was good at, anyway.

But still, the feelings wouldn’t leave.

“Shit.” Joe grabbed a beer from the fridge. He’d buy more and restock it, but he needed _something_. He took a swig, leaning heavily on a counter. Joe downed the beer, grabbed another, drank that one. Joe pushed himself away from the counter and wandered into the back room. Shrimp, crab, lobster, all of it fresh from that morning. It would still be good for tomorrow. They had plenty of onions, garlic, celery, carrots…

Joe groaned, rubbing at his aching back. Still, he bustled around, moving plates and bowls and glasses into their proper place, picking up and setting down spices and herbs, until he had to sit. Why was it so hard to breathe? Joe rubbed his chest, then tugged at the collar of his shirt. He loosened his tie, but it didn’t help.

It had to be stress. That was all. He probably should head home. Joe rocked to his feet, and immediately his knees buckled, sending him to the floor with a gasp. Pain throbbed in his chest, he couldn’t breathe. “Hh—!”

Joe’s vision darkened at the corners as he writhed on the floor. He tried to call out for help, despite knowing he was the only one there. Panic swirled through his gut. _I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe!_

Everything went black.

But then the world returned. Between one moment and the next, he was… awake? Joe looked around, voices filtering into his awareness. People were shouting. Why? And why did he feel so weird. It was almost like that empty feeling he got every once and a while, but different. More? Less?

It was then Joe realized he was floating. He gave a cry of alarm, twisting around in the air. His attention fell on something on the ground.

Himself.

Joe was looking at his own body, where it lay sprawled on the floor of the kitchen. Co-workers and a doctor had gathered around him. The doctor checked his pulse, and found nothing. Seconds passed, or maybe hours, and Joe’s body was being carried from the restaurant.

Joe didn’t know how long he’d followed himself. To a morgue, then to Whipstaff Manor. Home. He frowned as he passed through a wall and into the main hall. It looked familiar, but also not.

“Fatso?”

Joe turned to see two white figures flying towards him. He nearly screamed, until they got closer. “Stretch? Stinkie?” It was definitely them, despite not having legs… and missing a finger?

“Oh man, when did ya die?” Stretch asked, circling him.

“I… don’t know…” Joe said. “I just followed my body here.”

Stinkie pulled him into a cold hug. “Sorry.”

* * *

James watched as Fatso pulled away from his grave, looking sick.

“I don’t know how I forgot all that,” Fatso said. He shook his head. “When did I forget?”

“Now that you say it… I kinda remember when you came home that day,” Stretch said, rubbing at his chin. “But not much.”

Stinkie hovered by his grave, eyes wide. His hand shook as he reached out to touch it.

* * *

Peter hated the mines. Everything was too small, too tight, too dark. The lights were spaced too far apart in some tunnels, and of course some went out. God he needed a smoke. And a drink. As soon as the day was done, he and Joe and Sa—he and Joe were going to go out and get drunk.

The hours ticked by slowly. Peter was sure he wasn’t going to make quota that day, but he didn’t really care. He rubbed at his coal stained face, sneezed, then continued to chip away at the wall in front of him.

Fatigue gradually set in. Peter gave a halfhearted swing of his pickax, and nearly dropped it. He’d completely missed his target. Groaning, Peter hefted the pickax up, then swung down. It slipped from his grasp and he lurched forward. Something was wrong.

“Guys?” Peter called. It turned into a strangled cough. “Fuck… is the tunnel spinning?”

He looked around, trying to find the way back. There was definitely something wrong. Peter remembered something about gas being a problem. What was it though? He groaned, swaying on his feet as he stumbled through the dark. “Where are the damn lights?”

Peter’s stomach tossed and turned and chest felt tight. The world spun around him, pain shot through his head, and then…

Nothing.

* * *

Stinkie frowned, snatching his hand back. “Why can’t I remember anythin’ after that? I know I must’ve gone back to Whipstaff, the paper said the funeral was there.” He sat on his headstone and smacked at his head, apparently trying to jog his memory.

“Hey, don’t try and force it,” James told him gently. “More memories might come on their own, now that you’ve gotten started.”

“I guess,” Stinkie muttered, crossing his arms.

James noticed Stretch staring at his own grave. “Maybe we should give it a rest today, huh? Remembering your deaths seems to be taking a toll.”

Stretch huffed. “Hey, if they’re gonna remember, so am I.” And with that he placed both hands on his headstone.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A faster update than usual because I was in the zone when writing these scenes, lol.  
> WARNING: The beginning of this chapter has some semi-graphic violence, nothing too crazy, but still, please be aware of that. Also a little bit of throwing up (but not in much detail).

“You really fucked up this time, Stretch. The boss ain’t happy with you,” a man said, the smug grin apparent in his tone. Sam recognized the voice, but couldn’t place a name. He knew exactly who he worked for, though, and just how much shit he was in.

Sam’s swears were muffled by the gag in his mouth. He couldn’t see, what with the cloth tied around his eyes. Which meant it was going to get ugly. Sam struggled against the guys holding his bound arms behind his back. So what if it didn’t help? It annoyed the assholes tugging him around, so it gave him some petty satisfaction anyway.

The gag and blindfold were ripped away. One of the men let go of him only to kick him in the back of the knee, sending him crashing to the concrete below. Sam grunted, winced, and looked up. A warehouse. Which one, he didn’t know, but it was currently deserted apart from him and the three suited men standing around him.

“You’re gonna pay for this!” Sam spat, trying to get onto his knees.

One of the men stepped on his back, pinning him back to the floor. “Wow, I’m shakin’ in my boots.”

Sam twisted enough to see one of the men bringing over…  _Oh shit._ A metal baseball bat and two tire irons were handed out. He kicked and squirmed under the first man’s boot. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare!”

A scream ripped out of his throat, nearly drowning out the sickening crack of his ankle being shattered. Pain radiated through his body, and Sam didn’t even have time to register it before his shin was bashed with a tire iron. His shoulder was jerked out of place as one of the men kicked him, rolling him onto his back.

Blows rained down on his body. Sam choked on his shouts, tears streaming down his face until a blow to his stomach shut him up. He threw up, and it splattered over one of the men’s shoes.

“Ah, fuck! You little shit.” The bat slammed into his dislocated shoulder.

“St—Stop!” Sam cried out. His pleas fell on deaf ears. A sharp pain bloomed in his temple.

Sam didn’t know when the pain finally stopped, but it had. He didn’t remember closing his eyes either.

“You idiot. We weren’t supposed to kill him!”

The voice pierced the fog in Sam’s brain.

“Well, it’s one less thing the boss has to deal with, right?”

“Sure. But now we’re gonna have to clean it up.”

“We know where his car is right?”

Sam sat up with a groan. Looking around, the warehouse slowly swam into view. As did the three men carrying… his body? Sam looked down at himself. “What the hell!?” He was see-through. And missing a finger on both hands. 

The sound of the warehouse doors creaking open had Sam’s head snapping up. He tried to get up, and ended up floating into the air. Sam didn’t think too hard about it, instead using all his focus to move forward and follow his body.

“Just stuff it in there,” one of the men said, opening the trunk of a sleek black car.

The other two dumped Sam’s body inside, then slammed it shut before getting in. Sam felt a tug in his non-existent gut, and he dove into the trunk. It was dark, as it should be, but he could see just fine. 

“What the hell?” Sam repeated, staring down at his broken and bloodied corpse. He reached out to touch the blood trickling from his temple, and his hand passed right through. Shaken, Sam curled up in the corner of the trunk by his body’s feet. Which he no longer had in whatever form he was in now.

He was dead. Which meant… he was a ghost? Sam had never believed in that crap, not like J.T. but somehow it was real. And now he was one. It was difficult to wrap his mind around, but how could he think otherwise when he was looking at his own body?

The car eventually came to a stop, doors creaked open and slammed shut, then blinding light filled the trunk. Sam jumped and phased backwards out of the car. He drifted up into the air, watching as his murderers hoisted his body from the trunk. Two carried him over to Sam’s car, while the third opened the driver’s side door. They shoved his body carelessly into the seat.

“Wait, one last thing,” one of the men said, returning to their car. He came back with a bottle of vodka.

“Hey!” Sam shouted when the man poured it onto his nice pinstripe suit. He’d just bought that! Shaking his head, Sam scolded himself, “Priorities, you idiot. You’re dead! Who cares about the suit?”

They shut the door, then got behind the car. Sam could only watch as they pushed it towards the edge of the road. It and his body went sliding down the hill and slammed into a tree. Sam cringed at the sound. It was too much like…

Fury burned through his chest. How dare they do that to him! They killed him and had the nerve to make it look like a drunken crash? Like it was  _his_ fault?

A scream made him look down. The three men stared up at him in horror. They could see him? Before he could do anything about it, the three sprinted to their car, got in, and sped away. Sam glared after them, then looked down at the car wreck. He flew down, coming to a stop by the driver’s side. Through his reflection, Sam could see his body, crumpled between the seat and the steering wheel. No-one would know it wasn’t an accident. 

* * *

“… And at some point I guess I ended up back at Whipstaff,” Stretch explained. He sat on the ground in front of his grave, staring at the headstone.

That was horrific. James had no other word for it. To remember being beaten to death and your murder covered up… he couldn’t even imagine. “Stretch, I’m so sorry,” James said, voice barely above a whisper.

Stretch floated into the air. “Whatever.” Without looking at any of them, he flew down the snowy path and back to the car.

James glanced at Stinkie and Fatso, who looked just as disturbed as he felt. They didn’t speak, instead following after Stretch. James sighed. He should’ve known remembering their deaths would be potentially traumatic, but he’d had no idea it would be something like  _that._

The drive back to Whipstaff was unusually quiet, as James hadn’t felt it appropriate to turn on the radio. When they got inside, Stinkie and Fatso took off, going their own separate ways to haunt wherever it was they went when they weren’t hanging out with him. Stretch made to head for the stairs, but stopped when James called his name.

“What?” Stretch asked, eyes narrowing.

“Do you want to talk about it?” James asked. “Not as a therapy thing!” he hastened to add. “As friends.”

Stretch scoffed. “What’s there to talk about? It’s all in the past. I’m dead, so what does it matter now?” He turned to leave, but was stopped by James grabbing his arm.

“It matters because it clearly upset you,” James replied. Before Stretch could object, he continued, “And it’s okay that it has. That’s normal. Repressing it doesn’t help you.”

“It ain’t gonna help me to remember neither,” Stretch sneered, sinking down to James’ level. “What happens if I do remember everything, huh? Then what? Nothin’! Except maybe remembering what my “unfinished business” is. And if I remember that, then what if I finish that business? I’ll be gone.”

So that was it. James could feel Stretch’s wrist ripple underneath his fingers. “Stretch, even if you do remember, you don’t have to finish whatever business it is. That’s entirely up to you. In fact, remembering might help you avoid it, if you’d rather stay a ghost,” he explained. Avoidance. Not something he’d ever thought he’d recommend. But then, there was a lot he’d done since first coming to Whipstaff he’d never thought he would do. The Trio had every right to decide about their afterlives, and if they wanted to stick around then, as their friend, he should help. 

“I guess that makes some sense,” Stretch said slowly.

“Hm?”

Stretch shrugged. “Rememberin’ what my unfinished business is could make it easier not to finish it. I’m sayin’ ya made a good point. Though I suppose ya gotta be smart to be a doc,” he said, poking James’ forehead.

James chuckled. “I’m glad I could help.” It was then he realized he was still holding Stretch by the wrist. He let go, choosing instead to straighten his jacket and shove his hands in his pockets. “Anyway, remembering doesn’t have to happen all at once, like I said earlier. We can take our time with it.”

“Sure. Whatever you say,” Stretch said. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Ya know, ya haven’t said anythin’ about me workin’ for a gang.”

“Oh.” James hadn’t expected Stretch to bring it up. He hadn’t really focused too hard on that aspect of Stretch’s recollection if he was being honest with himself. James looked up at him. “I don’t judge you for it, Stretch. It’s been decades, for one. And two, I can see you aren’t proud of whatever business you had with them. If you’d like to talk about it, though, I’d be happy to listen.”

“There’s no point to that,” Stretch replied with a small frown. “I don’t even remember it. Just that little bit before I was… ya know.”

James nodded. 

“Yer such an upstandin’ guy, Doc. I thought fer sure you’d have a problem with that kinda business,” Stretch said, crossing his arms and arching an eyebrow.

“Well, that’s why you shouldn’t make assumptions, right? They make an ass out of you and me,” James said with a grin.

Both of Stretch’s brows rose. He was clearly unused to people throwing his words back at him. Stretch snickered and patted James’ cheek. “Yer alright, Doc.”

* * *

Kat groaned as, once again, her attempt at the elixir refused to turn red. She frowned at the beaker of blue liquid on the desk. 

“Hmm. Well, at least it has color this time,” Casper said, picking it up. He swirled it around, then set it back down. “I think it means we’re on the right track, anyway.”

“Maybe.” Kat glared at the notes they had. “If only your dad had written down amounts, or if something needs to be heated, or what gets mixed when.  _Something!”_

Casper sat on the desk. “I know I saw my dad make it. I remember being down here a couple of times. But… I just can’t remember how he made it.” He shook his head, resting his chin in his hands. “I wish I could remember.”

“Hey,” Kat said, reaching out and touching his arm. “It’s okay. We’ll figure it out eventually.”

“Yeah?” Casper brightened.

“Yeah.” Kat smiled. “We have pretty much everything we need. It’s just trial and error, right? We have to get it right at some point.”

Casper nodded, expression determined. “You’re right. We’ll get it. We have to.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kind comments and kudos everyone! <3

“What’s all this about?” Stretch asked, following James around the library. “I thought we weren’t doin’ therapy no more.”

“Yeah,” Stinkie agreed with a frown.

James set the boxes he’d brought with him down on his desk. “No more individual therapy with you three. However, I thought this might be useful for you and Casper.”

Fatso dropped onto the couch. “Whattya mean?”

“And what’s this junk?” Stretch demanded, leaning on James to peer over his shoulder. While Stretch had always been a little more tactile, he’d been getting noticeably more handsy over the past couple days.

“It’s stuff from the attic,” James replied. “I figured this is all stuff you guys owned at one point, so maybe it’ll help you all remember things.”

“Sorry I’m late, Dr. Harvey,” Casper said as he sped through a wall. He dove down over the banister and hovered by James’ chair.

“Casper’s late? What’s the world comin’ to?” Stretch asked, head in his hands.

Stinkie trembled dramatically. “It’s a sign of the apocalypse!”

“The horror!” Fatso cried.

Casper sighed. “Really?”

James chuckled. “It’s alright. This is a very casual thing. You guys can go through the boxes here, and see if you remember anything. If you do, that’s great. If you don’t, that’s okay, too,” he explained. James nodded at the Trio. “I even have the box where your picture was.”

The Trio descended on the boxes like a pack of hyenas, digging into the contents and tossing aside what they didn’t care about or recognize.

Casper sat on the couch, waiting for them to finish before daring to even approach. “What picture were you talking about, Dr. Harvey?” he asked, looking up at him.

“They didn’t show you?” James asked, brows raised.

“Nope.”

“Ah… I guess that’s not unexpected,” James muttered.

Casper floated into the air. “Oh! Wait a second!” He disappeared through a wall on the second story. Casper returned a few moments later with the picture in hand. “Ha, I knew it’d be in their room.”

Stretch frowned at him. “What’re ya doin’ goin’ into our room, bulb-head?”

“I wanted to see the picture Dr. Harvey mentioned,” Casper said, holding it up. He gave it a proper look, his head tilting. “Huh… You know, I _do_ remember you guys looking like this. Sort of. I don’t remember Uncle Stretch having a goatee like this, though.”

Stretch snatched the picture out of Casper’s hands and set it loudly on the desk. “That’s ‘cause I didn’t have it very long. Apparently long enough for yer dad to take a picture of us, the little shit.” He turned back to one of the boxes. “I only had it for a year, then changed it up.”

“Oh.” Casper glanced at the picture again, but didn’t touch it.

“Hey! I remember this!” Stinkie crowed, pulling out the cigar box James recalled seeing when he found the photo. “J.T. gave it to me for Christmas. Or was it my birthday? All the way from Cuba!” He opened the box and sniffed it. “Ahh… It still smells!”

Casper floated over. “That looks familiar. But why?”

Stinkie gave him an annoyed look, but then the frown turned thoughtful. “Wait a sec… Oh yeah!” He cackled. “You kept trying to get into this, askin’ all kinds of questions about it. So I gave ya one just to shut ya up. J.T. took it away before I could light it, though.”

“You were going to let Casper _smoke?”_ James asked incredulously.

“What? Our dad let me smoke when I turned ten,” Stinkie replied with a shrug. He blinked, then grinned. “I forgot about that, ha!”

Fatso chuckled. “Dad didn’t really care what we did, so long as we didn’t get in the way when he got home,” he said, nodding to himself. “Too tired from workin’ at the factory.”

Casper looked confused. “Grandpa worked in a factory?”

“… Yeah… Guess he did,” Fatso said, scratching his head. “Nope. That’s all I got. I don’t remember nothin’ else about him.”

“Oh…” Casper’s attention was caught by something else. He flew over to Stretch, who held a baseball cap in his hands. “Is that another Brooklyn Dodgers cap? I thought I only had the one.”

Stretch rubbed his chin, looking at the hat. Dawning understanding widened his eyes. “That’s cause this one’s mine.” He turned the cap over in his hands. “I got ya the other one…”

“You did?” Casper asked, shocked.

“Yeah. I think you were maybe five?” Stretch huffed and sat on a cleared part of the desk. “I took ya to yer first baseball game. I’d gotten two tickets and J.T. was busy with… somethin’? I don’t remember where Stinkie and Fatso were, but I decided I’d bring you along.”

Casper nodded. “I think I do remember that now.” He grinned. “You got us hot dogs and those soft pretzels—the ones with the mustard! And… and _that’s_ how I got into baseball…” He trailed off looking awed. “Wait, did I get the ball with you, too?”

Stretch shook his head. “Nah. I don’t know when ya got that. J.T. probably took ya to a game at some point.” His expression was soft, looking from the cap to Casper. It quickly disappeared. “Anyway. Had to do somethin’. Can’t just leave a toddler alone in a mansion, what if you’d died then? You’d be even more annoying than you are now.”

Stinkie and Fatso shuddered.

James was fascinated. He’d wondered about it before, but did ghosts lose their empathy when they died? When he didn’t remember Kat, he’d been much like the Trio. And that wasn’t like him at all. Or at least not adult him. James had always cared when kids cried whether he knew them or not, so to not bat an eye when Kat had—even without recognizing her—was completely out of character. But when he remembered, his empathy had returned. 

That’s what he saw with the Trio now, and when they’d been at their graves. When their memories returned, they seemed to care more. Though they also clearly preferred to hide that. The only thing that threw a wrench in James’ theory was Casper. Even dead, Casper was kind and empathetic. Were kids different in that way when they died? Keeping their innocence after death? James didn’t know, but it was definitely something he’d keep in mind.

* * *

“Happy Birthday, Dad,” Kat said, giving James a one armed hug before she sat at the kitchen table with her plate of waffles.

James smiled, setting his forkful of breakfast down. “Thanks, Bucket.”

“It’s your birthday today?” Casper asked. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Ah. Well, I didn’t really think about it,” James said with a shrug. “I don’t usually make a big deal of it, anyway. And then with living here…”

Casper’s eyes widened. “You don’t think we’ll be upset if you celebrate your birthday do you?”

“What’s this  I’m hearin’  about a birthday?” Stretch asked, leading the Trio down through the ceiling to land on the other side of the table.

Fatso looked around with a gleam to his eyes. “Where’s the cake!?”

“It’s Dr. Harvey’s birthday,” Casper replied with a smile. “Maybe I should make a cake, though.”

“That’s not necessary,” James protested. 

“So it’s the Doc’s birthday, huh? What are ya now, fifty?” Stinkie snickered.

James shook his head. “No. Thirty-nine, thanks. But like I was telling Casper, I don’t need a celebration. I’m happy just spending time with everyone.” 

“An Aquarius  _would_ say that,” Stinkie remarked. The Trio cackled.

“C’mon, Doc,  _live_ a little,” Stretch teased, leaning his elbows against the table. “Ya only turn thirty-nine once. And if we get some cake outta the deal, even better.”

Having a ghost wrapped around his face felt weird. Like a cold balloon pressed against his eyes. James grunted as he bumped into a wall.

“Oops, sorry,” Casper said. “But we’re here!”

James opened his eyes as Casper unwound from his face.

“Happy Birthday!”

Kat, Stretch, Stinkie, Fatso, and Casper were gathered around a simple chocolate two-tier cake in the middle of the dining table. The dining room had been decorated with various colored balloons and streamers. 

“Wow, thanks everyone!” James said, smiling. “This is really nice.” Despite his earlier protests, he was touched by the gesture. Especially that the Trio had gotten involved beyond just showing up to eat cake.

“Aaaand, we even got you a present,” Kat said, setting a small but long, haphazardly wrapped present on the table.

James’ eyebrows shot up. “How? Did you just get that today?”

“Don’t ask questions ya don’t wanna know the answer to,” Stretch said, slinging an arm around James’ shoulders. “Open it up!”

That just concerned James further, but he picked up the present anyway. He plucked the green bow off the top and removed the shiny blue wrapping paper. James blinked. It was a wooden and brass nameplate with—even more surprisingly— _his_ name on it.

Stinkie grinned. “For yer desk.”

“Now you can be all official-like,” Stretch added.

“Don’t worry, I left some money for it,” Kat piped up. “… I don’t know if it was enough, though.”

James smiled. “Gee, thanks you guys. I love it.” It was the thought that counted, even if he would have to track down the person they got it from to pay for it properly. Having  gotten a part time job at the local Marketbasket he wasn’t too worried. He chuckled. “Alright, since I know what you’re all really waiting for, let’s have cake.”

Casper set a few candles on top and lit them. “Don’t forget to make a wish!”

Feeling a little silly, James blew out the candles. What he really wished was for everyone to get along and to be happy.

“Cake time!” Fatso exclaimed, scooping up a fork.

Kat frowned. “Don’t you dare. We’re going to serve it properly, so everyone gets some.”

“ _I’ll_ handle the cutting,” James said, picking up the knife before anyone else could. He cut large slices for everyone and handed them out. After that he didn’t mind if everyone went wild on it. 

“We found a new bar,” Fatso said after a few minutes, spewing chunks of cake everywhere. 

Stretch nodded. “One that doesn’t have a giant hole outside it.”

James glanced at Kat.

“Do whatever you want, Dad. It’s your birthday,” she said with a shrug.

“I guess… Sure. Tonight we can go,” James agreed with a small sigh. “But I’m not getting drunk again.”

James didn’t think he’d ever get used to being flown through the air by the Trio. They set him down outside a bar he vaguely recalled passing by when he and Kat and driven into town the first time. Much like the last time, as soon as they got in the bar, most of the other people there ran out screaming. A few too drunk to care stuck around.

Stretch dove behind the bar and returned with bottles of tequila. “Looks like tonight’s on the house,” he cackled. Stretch gave one to Stinkie, then Fatso—both of whom immediately drank from theirs—and finally a glass to James.

“Thanks,” James said, leaving some money on the bar for the bartender when he returned.

“Look, this one’s got a better karaoke set up,” Stinkie pointed out, the swig of tequila he’d taken spilling onto the floor.

Stretch, Fatso, and Stinkie exchanged a look. 

“You boys thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?” Stretch asked.

“Mhmm,” Stinkie and Fatso agreed. They headed up to the karaoke machine.

Stretch grinned at James. “C’mon!” He beckoned James as Stinkie started up the song. James followed the three over. 

Stretch slid on a pair of sunglasses that app eared out of no-where  and then began to sing .  _“_ _If you see a faded sign by the side of the road that says fifteen miles to the—”_

_“Loooove shaaaack!”_ Fatso shouted. _“Love shack, yeah!”_

James drank some of the tequila and hurried up beside them. _“I’m headin’ doown the Atlantaaa highwaay!”_

 _“Looking for the loooove get away!”_ Stinkie joined in. _“_ _Headed_ _for the love get awaaaay, looove get awaaay!”_

 _“I got me a car, it’s as big as a whale!”_ Stretch smirked. _“And we’re headin’ on down to the love shack. I got me a Chrysler, it sits about twenty, so hurry up and bring your jukebox money!”_

 _“The love shack is a little old place where we can get togetheeer,”_ James, Stinkie, and Fatso harmonized. _“_ _L_ _ove shack baaabyyy! A love shack baby. Love shack, baby love shack!”_

Stretch grooved across the stage. _“Sign says—“_

 _“Woo!”_ Stinkie screamed.

 _“Stay away fools! ‘Cause love rules at the lo-o-ove shack!”_ Stretch grinned.

James danced along with the music. _“Well it’s set way back in the middle of a field, just a funky old shack and I gotta get baaaack.”_

 _“Glitter on the mattress, glitter on the highwaaaay,”_ Fatso chimed in, pretending to play the keyboard. _“Glitter on the front pooorch, glitter on the hallwaaay!”_

_“The love shack is a little old place where we can get togetheeer. Love shack, baaabyyyy!”_

_“Love shack, baby!”_

_“Love shaaaack, that’s where it’s at. Love shaaaack, that’s where it’s at!”_

_“Huggin’ and a-kissin’, dancin’ and a-lovin’, wearing next to nothin’!”_ Stretch tossed his sunglasses off to the side. _“’Cause it’s hot as an oven. The whole shack shimmies when everybody's movin' around and around and around and around!”_

James laughed as Stretch grabbed his hand and twirled him across the stage.

_“Everybody’s movin’, everybody’s groovin’ baby!”_

_“_ _Folks_ _lining up just to get down!”_

It was impossible not to get caught up in the fun as even the drunken bar goers clapped and stomped their feet along with the beat. Stinkie and Fatso pulled a few old sixties dance moves, Fatso’s hat having fallen off at some point. When the other people in the bar sang along with them, James couldn’t help but laugh.

_“… Love shack, baby love shack!”_

_“Baby that’s where it’s at!”_

_“Bang bang bang on the door baby!”_

_“Knock a little louder,_ _sugar_ _!”_ Stretch shouted.

_“Bang bang bang on the door baby!”_

Stretch cupped a hand around his non-existent ear. _“I can’t hear you!”_

_“Bang baaang!”_

_“On the door baby!”_

James did a little Watusi, causing Stretch to nearly miss a lyric from laughing at how ridiculous it looked. Stinkie and Fatso copied James, before breaking into the Twist. Or James did, Stinkie and Fatso ended up becoming more of a mini twister and phasing through the wall.

_“Bang baaang!”_

_“On the door!”_

_“Bang baaang!”_

_“On the door, baby!”_

_“Bang baaang!”_

_“You’re_ what?”

Fatso popped back through the wall. _“Tiiiiiiiiin roof, rusted!”_

_“Love shack, baby love shack! Love shack, baby love shack! Love shack, baby love shack!”_

_“Huggin’ and a-kissin’, dancin’ and a-lovin’ at the loooove shack!”_ Stretch grabbed James’ hand again, spinning and dipping him. James didn’t have time to blush before he’d been stood back up and let go, Stinkie and Fatso bowing to drunken applause.

Flicking on the light switch, James’ bedroom was illuminated in a soft golden glow from the chandelier and wall sconces. James hadn’t gotten around to changing the room much, so it still looked like it had the first time he’d lived there. Which meant it was likely still the same as it had been since the manor had been inhabited by the living. The large mahogany four-poster took up one side of the room, set back against the pale yellow wall. Across from it was a match dresser with an ornate mirror above it, and a matching vanity off to the side. There were double doors leading out to a decent sized balcony. All in all, it was a beautiful room, especially after it had been cleaned up.

James sighed, sinking into the bed. He would get undressed and go to bed properly in a minute, but right then he didn’t feel like it. He’d definitely gotten a little tipsy at the bar, if the warmth bubbling around in his chest and head was anything to go by. Without really thinking about it, his hands went to his belt. Maybe it’d be a good way to shut his mind off for a bit and relax. James grabbed some lotion from the bedside table, slicked his hand, and slid it into his pants, biting his lip as he touched himself for the first time in… a while.

It really had been a long time. Every time he’d tried he couldn’t do it, thinking instead of Amelia. How could he think of touching himself when the last time he’d been intimate his wife was alive? James shoved those thoughts aside. Amelia would want him to feel good, to be happy, especially on his birthday. 

And he was happy. James held back a groan as he stroked his cock. He was happy, right? Unbidden, the memories of Stretch’s oddly flirtatious comments and actions rose up in his mind. “Stretch,” he moaned. Guilt flooded him and he snatched his hand away from his cock.

James had had a few small crushes on guys when he was younger, even had a couple intimate moments, but when he met Amelia that was it. He hadn’t seen anyone else but her. And to think of  _Stretch_ that way? His friend? Yeah, Stretch seemed to be flirting with him, but that didn’t mean he actually was. Or that it was anything other than a joke. Right?

A shiver ran up James’ spine, a chill spreading up from the bed through his body. Weird. His hand crept back down to his cock. His other hand unbuttoned his shirt. James hadn’t planned on going that far. He tightened his hold on himself, stroking a bit fast. Biting down harder on his lip to keep himself quiet, his fingers brushed over his nipple. “ _Oh…_ ” That felt good.

In his mind’s eye, it was Stretch touching him. A quiet snicker into his ear as chilled fingers slipped over his body. James moaned again, forgetting himself. It felt like there were hands everywhere, stroking his chest, sliding through his hair, caressing a thigh, fisting his cock. 

“A-ah!” James quickly slapped a hand over his mouth, hips twitching as he came.

“Wow, talk about sexy, Doc,” Stretch purred.

James eyes snapped open. His room was empty. He sat up, breathing finally calming. James shook his head, wide-eyed. He had to have imagined that. Just the last remnants of his fantasy. Cheeks heating, James practically ran to his bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who don't know, the song they sang was Love Shack by the B-52's. You can listen to it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9SOryJvTAGs  
> I'd also considered Under Pressure by Queen and David Bowie or even Bohemian Rhapsody, but this was more fun, so I hope you don't mind, lol.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday to those that have been celebrating, and to those that haven't, I hope you all had a good few days regardless, lol. I hope you all like this newest chapter!

James finished putting away the groceries and threw away the paper bags before getting out his pocket-sized notepad. He’d gone to the library again before heading shopping, and finally he’d found what he’d been looking for. And if he’d managed to avoid Stretch and any embarrassing thoughts about him, then that was entirely on accident.

Well, he hadn’t entirely been unable to avoid thinking about what happened. James just wasn’t sure what to make of it. It would’ve certainly helped if he knew for sure whether he really had imagined Stretch being there or not.

And if he hadn’t? Then what? James and Stretch were very opposite people. James was calm and collected, but not afraid of his emotions. Most of the time. He strived to be empathetic, a good listener, and always willing to lend a helping hand. While Stretch was brash, mischievous, and avoided feelings like the plague. Even so, he did care for his brothers and Casper, as much as he liked to pretend otherwise. James sighed, shaking his head. He supposed there was a reason for the phrase “opposites attract”.

But that was if Stretch really had been the one to… If James had truly imagined it all, then there was nothing else to consider. The likelihood that Stretch felt in any way similarly to him was, honestly, slim-to-none. Stretch was from a time that such things were not acceptable, to put it lightly, so really James had no business even entertaining the thought at all.

No. Better to focus on the reality of things right now.

“Casper!” James called, wandering into the foyer. No response. He headed for the media room and frowned. Usually that’s where Kat and Casper could be found after school, but today it was empty. Stepping back into the hall, he called for Casper again.

“Doc!”

James jumped, turning to see Stretch flying towards him. “Stretch?”

Instead of answering, Stretch grabbed his arm and dragged him down the hall. 

“What’s going on?” James demanded.

“Kat and short-sheet are actin’ crazy, that’s what!” Stretch snapped, slinging him into a wall. James yelped, arms flailing as the wall spun and dumped him into the library. Before he could orient himself, Stretch pushed him into a chair. James gripped the arms as the chair jerked backwards. “What’s happening!?”

Stretch grinned. “Watch yer head!”

When the chair finally came to a stop in the laboratory James was completely confused. And wet. That machine was dangerous. 

“Really? You guys are overreacting,” Kat complained with a roll of her eyes.

“Will someone tell me what’s going on?” James asked, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“Kat’s tryin’ to bring Casper back to life,” Stinkie said. He held up a bottle of red-orange liquid. “I was wonderin’ why they kept comin’ down here to mess with chemicals after I told ‘em not to.”

Fatso frowned. “When did you do that?”

“Uhh… Sometime last month?” Stinkie shrugged.

James placed his hands on Kat’s shoulders. “Kat, honey, please tell me that’s not true. You haven’t been handling unknown chemicals?”

Kat ducked her head “If it makes you feel better, I was careful about it. And my teacher told me what the chemicals were, and I did research. Besides, we found them in Casper’s dad’s notes. So they had to be safe enough,” she explained, more determined as she went. “Casper was so close to coming back, Dad. If there’s a way to do it, shouldn’t we? And besides, we already made the stuff, we might as well try it.”

“Kat, what if that  _stuff_ doesn’t work?” James asked. “What if it hurts him?”

“Don’t worry, Dr. Harvey, I’m already dead, remember?” Casper said with a reassuring smile. “And last time it went wrong I was only an egg for a few minutes.”

“An egg?” Stretch face-palmed. “Even more reason ya shouldn’t try this crap.”

“Hey!” Kat glared at him.

Casper sighed. “Guys, please don’t fight. I want to try it. Besides, if it works, we can bring my Uncles back, too. And think of the other people we could help,” he said, eyes bright with the desire to good for others.

“Wait…  _us?_ Alive again?” Fatso asked.

Stinkie tilted his head. “Is that something we want?” 

Fatso shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Maybe… Maybe we should try it out first,” Stretch suggested.

James’ brows furrowed. “Huh?”

“No way, deadbeats,” Kat snapped. “This was for Casper.”

Stretch dove down, getting in her face. “Back off, skin-sack. If we wanna test out yer experiment first, then we will.” He flew over her head. “Stick it in, Stinkie.”

Stinkie saluted and popped the bottle into the Lazarus. 

Kat looked for a moment like she was going to protest again, but James stopped her. “Kat, I think they’re trying to make sure it’s safe,” James said quietly.

“Really?” Kat asked, arching an eyebrow. “Since when do they care about anyone being safe? Especially Casper?”

“You’d be surprised,” James replied. Despite his calm exterior, he was worried about what would happen to the Trio. What if they disappeared? Or worse? Nausea curled in the pit of his stomach at the thought.

Casper shrugged. “I mean, if it works then I can use it after. I don’t mind.”

“This stupid thing ain’t workin’!” Fatso complained, struggling with the levers.

With a frustrated sigh, Kat climbed up onto the catwalk with Casper close behind. “Out of the way. I’ve got it. Just get inside.”

James walked to the base of the stairs. “Be careful.”

Stretch grabbed Stinkie and Fatso and pulled them into the Lazarus. Kat turned the bottle, pulled one lever, pushed up another. The machine growled to life, shaking and whirring and steaming. Water sloshed and frothed around the legs of the Lazarus, stirred up by the activity. 

“Did this happen when I went in?” James asked, wary.

“Yeah,” Casper replied. Kat nodded.

It shuddered to a stop a few moments later. The door creaked open and smoke billowed out.

“Did it work?” Fatso’s voice echoed from the machine.

“I can’t tell,” Stinkie said.

“Maybe if you  _bozos_ got out we’d know!” Stretch snapped.

Shadows moved behind the smoke. James held his breath. The smoke sunk toward the floor and faded away. James, Kat, and Casper gasped. 

“It… sort of worked?” Kat said, squinting at the Trio.

Stretch, Stinkie, and Fatso were still ghosts, that much was obvious. However, they looked much different. In fact, they looked similar to their photo upstairs. Still transparent and with a bit of actual—if muted—color to them. 

Stretch plucked at his dark gray pinstripe suit, then rubbed at his thin goatee. “I got my facial hair back!” He blinked, then ran his fingers through his black slicked-back hair. “Holy shit!”

“We have five fingers again!” Stinkie cheered. He looked down at his tan pants, a few strands of light brown hair falling into his face. “And legs!”

“Aw, I kinda miss the tail,” Fatso pouted beneath his dark brown mustache. He looked down at his black suit. “Hey, ya think these are the clothes we were buried in?”

“Who cares?” Stretch asked, rolling his eyes. “The point is, we’re more like ourselves!”

Casper floated around them, then back to Kat. “That’s weird. But it has to mean we were pretty close,” he said, beaming.

“Yeah, maybe,” Kat agreed, heading down the stairs.

“I’m just glad you three are alright,” James said with a smile. He had to admit, it was a bit strange to see them as…  _them_ instead of vaguely human spirits. It would take getting used to, that was for sure.

Stretch smirked, dropping down through the floor to land in front of him. He draped an arm over James’ shoulders, no less cold than he’d been before. “Aw, worried about us? How sweet.” It was more apparent now, up close, why he’d been nicknamed Stretch; he must have been around 6’3” or 6’4” since he seemed to be an inch or two taller than James without floating.

“Not like we ain’t already dead,” Stinkie added, leaning against his other side with a crooked grin.

“Might’ve been fun to be an egg, though,” Fatso said, peering around Stinkie.

“Trust me, it’s not,” Casper said, flying down to them. “How are you guys feeling?”

That gave them pause. Stretch rested his hands on the hips he now had. “Good question.  _Something’s_ different…” He snapped his fingers. “I’m rememberin’ things!”

Stinkie and Fatso nodded.

“What do you remember?” James asked.

“I remember… bein’ alive,” Stretch said. His arm fell away from James and he took a step back, expression thoughtful. “I remember J.T. havin’ this place built.”

Casper tilted his head. “You mean the lab?”

“The whole manor,” Stinkie said.

“You guys didn’t grow up here?” Kat asked.

Fatso snorted, crossing his arms. “I wish.”

“Nah, our mom and dad could barely afford our apartment in Brooklyn when we had to leave Jersey,” Stretch said, shaking his head. “Factory work didn’t pay much.”

Stinkie sighed. “Remember how mad Mom got when Dad would come home smellin’ like the factory?” he laughed. “I miss that smell.”

Stretch rolled his eyes. “Of course  _you’d_ have fond memories of that stink. You could only smell things that’d put normal people into a coma,” he sneered. Stretch looked around the lab. “But J.T.…. He invented so many things people loved. An’ once he could he built this.” 

“Oh yeah. It was real small at first,” Fatso agreed with a chuckle. 

“Must’ve built it up after Casper died, though. It wasn’t nearly this big when we were alive,” Stretch remarked.

The room suddenly felt heavy. Stretch looked over at Casper.

“You’re rememberin’ him dyin’, too, huh, Stretch?” Stinkie asked, voice quiet.

Stretch nodded. “Yeah. I am.”

“I hated that day,” Fatso muttered. “J.T. was so sad.”

Casper stared at them. “You were there when I died?”

“’Course we were,” Stretch said with a huff. “We didn’t wanna scare you and J.T. so we didn’t show ourselves, but we were there. I thought if we stayed invisible you’d have a better chance of livin’, ya know, without the extra stress or whatever.”

“It was awful,” Stinkie said, shaking his head. “I don’t like rememberin’ it. It’s like I can see it happenin’ all over again.”

Fatso grabbed Casper, pulling him into a bear hug. “You were too young to go!” he sobbed.

“Whoa!” Casper gasped. He yelped as he was suddenly crushed in a group hug by his crying uncles. “I didn’t know it bothered you guys so much.”

“Of course it does you little idiot!” Stretch snapped. He winced. “Uh… I mean… Sorry.”

Casper gave him a half-smile. “Well, it’s good to know you’re still you. I was almost worried the Lazarus turned you into completely different people.”

“ _Tch._ Not on you’re after-life.” Uncomfortable, Stretch let go and wandered back over to James. “Hey, weren’t ya lookin’ for Casper before I dragged ya down here?”

“You were?” Kat asked, giving the Trio a final odd look before turning to her dad.

James blinked. “Oh! Right, I almost forgot.” He pulled the mini notebook from his pocket. “Capser, I found out the asylum where your dad was institutionalized.”

Casper wriggled out of Fatso and Stinkie’s grasps and floated over to James. “Where? Do you think he might be there still?”

“I don’t know, but it’s possible,” James said. He flipped through his notes. “Ah. Here it is. Little Peak Sanatorium. It’s about a two hour drive from here.”

“If he is there, maybe he’d remember the way to make the elixir,” Kat said, fired up again.

“Yeah!” Casper grinned. “And then we can all come back and live together!”

Stretch placed a hand on Casper’s shoulder. “Slow your roll, bulb-head. He might not even be there. Don’t get your hopes too high.”

“He might’ve moved on already,” Stinkie added, rubbing the back of his neck.

Casper shook his head. “If he’s not there, he has to be somewhere else. I don’t think he’s moved on. It wouldn’t make sense,” he replied. He looked at James. “When can we go?”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I always say it, but I really do appreciate all the comments and kudos, so thank you! Hopefully you all enjoy this update.

James stopped the car at the end of the curved driveway to the long brick building, the mountain that gave the sanatorium its name peeking over the top in the distance. Ivy had wrapped around the  once-white  columns, creeping up over the green roof and spreading across the walls. It was five floors above ground, with wide towers on both sides. A tall chain link fence surrounded most of the grounds. Bare trees flanked the driveway. They might have been beautiful and welcoming in the spring or summer, but now they were downright sinister in the way they curled over the driveway like claws.

“Kat, you should stay in the car,” James said, unbuckling. 

“What? No way!” Kat protested, frowning at him.

James turned in his seat. “The place is falling apart. There could be holes in the floor, loose wiring, and any number of things left by vandals. Or vandals themselves,” he explained. “It’s too dangerous.”

Kat opened her door and got out. “I’m going with you guys whether you want me to or not, so you might as well agree.”

Stretch, Stinkie, and Fatso snickered as they phased out of the car.

“We’ll all be together, so we’ll be safe,” Casper pointed out, joining Kat.

James sighed. “Fine.”

They followed the slush covered path to the mossy stone steps. The y were slick,  but mostly free from snow due to the overhanging roof . James pulled at the tall, black doors. They didn’t budge.

“We’ve got it,” Stretch said. He, Stinkie, and Fatso walked through the doors. A moment later they were pushed open.

“Thanks, fellas,” James said, smiling at them as he, Kat, and Casper entered the asylum. 

A wooden front desk tilted into the center of the front entry. Two halls lead off to the left and right, and a sweeping staircase took up the rest of the room. Graffiti had been sprayed over the peeling paint, depicting illegible names and writings, as well as a skull and a few odd faces. 

“Creepy,” Kat muttered.

Casper floated further into the room. “Hello?” he called, his voice echoing through the empty halls. “Is anyone here?”

James nearly jumped out of his skin when something cold brushed against his shoulder. He whipped his head around to see Stretch standing beside him, looking amused. 

“Ya sure  _you_ don’t wanna wait in the car?” Stretch asked with a smirk. It was a familiar expression, though still strange to see on such a handso—human face. 

“I-I’m sure.” James coughed awkwardly and looked away.

“Maybe we should split up, it’ll go faster,” Stinkie suggested.

“No, we’re sticking together,” James said sternly. “No-one is going to go wandering off on their own in here.”

Kat pointed to the right. “Let’s try down this way first, then.”

The hall was long and narrow,  with  doors lining the sides. More graffiti was scattered across the walls, while plaster dust, dirt, and  animal droppings coated the floors. Wind whistled through the various broken windows in the rooms they passed. James tucked his hands into his armpits, mentally making note to buy some gloves later.

“Hello?” Casper called again. “There’s gotta be others here, right? Even if my dad isn’t, maybe someone will know if he was.”

Stretch shrugged, shoving his hands into his ghostly pockets. “ Maybe . Who knows.”

“Is there anyone here?” Kat asked the empty halls . “We only want to talk!”

No answer.

James peered into a room. There was stretcher tipped onto it’s side, belts hanging from  it . Old computers and machinery took up a table that had been pushed up against a wall, above which had been spray painted “Redrum”.

“How original,” Kat said with a snort, looking in beside him.

The next room over was completely bare, aside from a bucket that James really didn’t want to see the inside of. Beyond that one was a room filled with various filing cabinets and shelves full of moldy boxes.

James crouched in front of one of the filing cabinets, pulling open one of the drawers. He took out a file and flipped through it. “Oh. It looks like this is where the patients personal belongings were stored.” He frowned, putting the file away. “The organization is pretty poor, though.” 

Another room had more files,  and a desk shoved up against a wall . These  files , however, were about the various treatments for the patients. Of course James knew  of  the ways patients had been treated back when the asylum had been in operation, but it still made him grit his teeth. Insulin shock therapy, Metrazol shock therapy, lobotomy, ice water baths… Honestly, James couldn’t really blame the Trio for being wary of therapy, even if the practice had come a long way since then. 

“Is… my dad’s file in there? What do those mean?” Casper asked from by his shoulder, startling James.

James quickly closed the file in his hand. “I don’t know. Casper—”

A clattering from above caused him to jump back. 

“I knew it!” Casper gasped, grinning. “Someone  _is_ here!” He swooped up through the ceiling without wasting another moment.

“Casper!” Kat exclaimed in frustration.

They hurried back down the hall to the front entrance. The stairs creaked and groaned under James and Kat’s feet as they ran up, the Trio flying beside them.

“Casper, where did you go?” Kat called as the y reached the landing.

“Over here!” Casper’s voice was echoed from the left hall. They found him floating through rooms, looking around. “I know I heard something around here…”

A door slammed somewhere in the distance. They took off after it. James nearly ran into a wheelchair that had been left in the hall, then tripped over an abandoned book. 

“Come  _on,_ Dad,” Kat huffed impatiently.

They turned a corner and stopped. A young woman floated in the middle of the hall, one James could see right through. She turned, green eyes going wide. The lady gasped and turned invisible.

“Hey, wait! We just want to talk,” Casper said, approaching slowly.

A little further away, she reappeared. “… You’re a ghost too?” she asked, tugging at the wispy remnants of long hair, though it mostly blended in with the rest of her.

Casper smiled. “Yep! Hi, I’m Casper.” He held out his hand. 

The woman looked at it, then around him. “You’re ghosts.” Her attention turned to James and Kat, eyes narrowing. “But you two are not.”

“No, we’re not,” James agreed. “But we don’t mean any harm. Like Casper said, we just want to talk. Can we know you’re name?”

“… Irene,” the woman said finally. Irene’s gaze flitted around the hall, then settled again on Casper. “What do you want?”

“I’m looking for my dad. He was here when he was alive,” Casper explained. “Do you know a J.T. McFadden?”

Irene flickered in and out of visibility, rubbing at her head. “Umm… I… I don’t…” She went quiet. Then she calmed down. “Yes. He’s…” Irene looked around again. “He’s here.”

“He is?” Casper grinned. “Where?”

“Sometimes he’s in his room. Sometimes he’s outside… Or he might be in the rec room. I don’t… I don’t see him much.” Irene twisted her hands together.

“Wow. Helpful,” Stretch remarked with a sneer.

“Stretch,” James chided. “She’s trying to help.”

Casper ignored his uncle’s comment. “Would you mind showing us those places? Please, Miss Irene?” he asked. “I’d really appreciate it.”

“Hmm…. I… Okay.” Irene smiled and patted Casper’s head. “You’re a good kid. I want to help.”

“Thank you!”

Irene nodded. “Follow me.” She turned away and floated down the hall.

“Ya know, she’s kinda cute, for a nut case,” Fatso whispered to Stinkie.

“Oh yeah,” Stinkie agreed, waggling his eyebrows.

James  gave them a look  of disappointment . “You shouldn’t refer to people like that. What if you had ended up in here?”

“Eh. I’m pretty sure it would’ve happened eventually, we ain’t exactly sane ourselves,” Stinkie laughed. His laughter fizzled out as they rounded another corner. “I don’t think I woulda liked this place, though…”

Irene lead them up a twisting staircase and down yet another hallway. Doors opened up to a long balcony to their left, where James could see more snow covered trees, some bare, some pines or other evergreens. He could see the mountain again in the distance.

“He’s not there…” Irene mumbled, looking out at the balcony. “His room is just this way, though.”

They came to a stop outside one of the few rooms with a closed door. Most were either open, or completely missing. Irene knocked on the door. “Hello? Mr. McFadden?”

“Go away!”

Irene shrank back. “He’s there. But he doesn’t like talking to people.”

“We’ll take care of it from here. Thank you for your help,” James said with a smile.

“… Good luck.” Irene sank through the floor.

Casper knocked on the door before pulling it open.

“I said go away!” 

J.T. McFadden was floating over a mildew stained mattress which lay crooked on the iron bed frame. He vaguely resembled his picture, his intense expression and mustache the only remaining identifying features. 

“Dad?” Casper asked slowly moving inside. “It’s me, Casper.”

J.T. frowned at him. “Who are you calling dad? I don’t know you.”

“What?” Casper’s voice trembled.

Kat reached out and placed a hand on Casper’s arm. “It’s been a while, Casper. You remember how my dad was when he was a ghost,” she said softly.

“Who are all of you? Get out of my room,” J.T. snapped, glaring at them all.

James stepped inside. “Excuse me, Mr. McFadden, we’re sorry for barging in. But it’s true, Casper is your son,” he said. “Ah, sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Dr. James Harvey,  and this is my daughter— ”

That was the wrong thing to say. J.T. burst up from the bed with an enraged snarl. “DOCTOR!?” His eyes glowed red and the room shook. The bed was flung against the opposite wall with a deafening clang. Kat yelped as the mattress spun past her.

Stretch, Stinkie, and Fatso dove forward, grabbing J.T. and pinning him to the wall. 

“Back off!” Stretch demanded as Fatso kept him in place. “Don’t even think about hurting our bone-bags!”

“Yeah, only we get to make ‘em miserable,” Stinkie snapped. 

Kat pushed James out of the room. “We probably should stay out here.”

J.T. struggled in their grasp. “I won’t let another doctor near me!”

“Hit ‘im with it, Stinkie,” Stretch ordered.

Stinkie took a deep breath, then belched. “Smell-o-gram!”

With a wheeze J.T. went slack in their grip, expression dazed. When the Trio let go, he sunk to the floor. 

“Dad, are you okay?” Casper exclaimed, flying over to him. He gently shook his shoulder.

“Don’t touch me! Go away,” J.T. ground out, smacking Casper’s hands away.

Casper backed off. “But… Please, you’ve gotta remember.”

J.T. shot up from the floor, a gust of wind whipping around him. “Get out!” He used the wind to blow them out of the room. The door slammed shut behind them.

James could feel Casper’s heartbreak just looking at him. Casper stared at the shut door, trembling, ectoplasmic tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. His form rippled, fading in and out of visibility.

“I’m so sorry, Casper.” Kat gently took his hand and keeping him grounded.

“He wouldn’t even listen…” Casper looked at her, expression lost.

“Maybe we can try again another day,” James suggested. “We know there are ways to restore a ghost’s memories, so I’m sure we can do something here. Although, maybe next time I’ll stay out of the way.”

Casper nodded. “Okay…”

As they made their way back down to the main entrance, Kat spoke up. “We could try using the recipe or whatever we have now on you. You said you were in the lab when your dad made the elixir, so maybe you’ll remember it. Then when you’re alive we can come back and that would help him recognize you?”

“I guess,” Casper sighed. “I don’t really want to think about it right now, Kat.”

“Yeah… Okay, I get it.” 

* * *

James put away the last of the cleaned plates and sighed. Done. It was late, and after the way the day had gone he was ready to sleep. He turned and nearly jumped as Stretch walked through the wall. Luckily he was getting used to it and he managed to not make a noise to give away his surprise.

“There ya are, Doc. You still cleanin’ up in here?” Stretch asked, arching an eyebrow.

“I just finished,” James replied. “Did you need me for something?”

One of the chairs slid away from the table and Stretch sat, leaning back in it and causing it to tip back slightly. “I wouldn’t say I needed nothin’. But seein’ J.T. today, it made me remember somthin’, and…” He shrugged. “You’re always interested in hearin’ about the crap I remember so I figured I’d tell ya.”

James smiled, sitting in the chair beside Stretch. “I’d love to hear about it.”

“It was J.T. and Elsie’s weddin’ day. I remember I got to be J.T.’s Best Man,” Stretch said with a grin. He actually looked proud. But then he smirked. “Mostly ‘cause I said I’d give ‘im hell if he didn’t.”

James chuckled. Yeah, he could believe that.

* * *

“Hey, what’s takin’ so long?” Stretch asked, entering the little room J.T. was using to get ready. “Ya didn’t die in here did ya?”

J.T. turned from the mirror he’d been standing in front of, dressed in a perfectly tailored black tux. “Sam,” he greeted with a relieved smile. “Is everything ready?”

Stretch nodded, closing the door behind him as he entered. “Just waitin’ on you,” he said. Stretch had long ago given up trying to get J.T. to use his nickname. Sam just seemed too formal. Or too childish. Both, somehow. But that was J.T., being the college graduate show-off he was. Always had to be formal and talk fancy. How Stretch managed to not throttle him at times was a mystery. 

“Oh.” J.T. grimaced and pulled at his bow tie. “I should go out there, then.”

“Don’t tell me you’re gettin’ second thoughts?” Stretch asked, brows raised.

J.T. shook his head. “No! Never,” he protested. He sighed, going to run his fingers through his neatly parted hair, but stopping himself before he could. “I guess it’s just nerves.”

“Nerves?” Stretch snorted. “Don’t give me that. McFaddens ain’t scared of nothin’. Ya got that?”

“Right,” J.T. chuckled, cracking a smile. “How could I forget?”

Stretch clapped J.T. on the back. “Good. ‘Cause Dad’s out there waitin’ to see ya get hitched, an’ ya know how he gets if he’s gotta wait too long for somethin’.”

J.T. outright laughed at that. “True.” He sighed, once again fiddling with his bow tie. “I can’t believe I’m getting married, Sam. It should be you, or Peter or Joe getting married first.”

“Are you whacky? One of  _us_ get married?” Stretch cackled. He shook his head, straightening out J.T.’s tie. “Nah. Only a twit would wanna marry us. ‘Sides, I gotta lot of life left to live. Maybe when I’m done havin’ fun I’ll find someone worth toleratin’. Anyway, you’re the goody two shoes of the family, so of course you’re gettin’ hitched first.”

“Maybe,” J.T. agreed with a small smile.

“No maybes,” Stretch said, urging J.T. towards the door. “Now get out there. Ya gotta get married so you two can have those grandkids Ma wants so bad, and then she can finally stop naggin’ the rest of us about it.”

J.T. finally got a move on at that and the wedding started. Stretch, Stinkie, and Fatso stood on J.T.’s side, while Elsie’s sister and best friends waited on hers. And then the wedding march started up. Elsie looked beautiful in her sleek sa t in gown, her long lace veil trailing behind her as she walked to the alter,  and her blonde hair curled up in an elegant bun.

Stretch managed to keep his emotions in check as his  baby brother got married. The same couldn’t be said for Fatso, who was embarrassingly open about it. Even Stinkie sniffled a bit. And maybe Stretch had to wipe away a few tears when J.T. and Elsie kissed.

* * *

“It was real nice,” Stretch finished quietly. He stared off into the distance with a soft smile, clearly lost in the memory.

James nodded slowly, not saying a word. He’d never seen Stretch look so innocently happy. It was a relief to know that Stretch did have some  good memories, as James had worried most of them would have been negative. Especially after J.T. didn’t remember them or Casper, for a happy memory to be triggered was surprising.

Stretch blinked, and sat upright, catching James staring at him. “What?” he demanded.

“Nothing,” James replied with a smile. “That was a very nice memory. Thank you for sharing it with me.”

“Oh…” Stretch shrugged one shoulder. “Yeah…  Sure… ” 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait everyone, this chapter's a bit longer than usual, though, so I hope that makes up for it. ;) I do hope you all enjoy it, this was a fun one.
> 
> Note: This chapter has a smut scene near the end, so if that's not your thing, now you know.

James, Stretch, Stinkie, and Fatso gathered around the Lazarus as Kat and Casper set it up. It had taken a few days for them to make another batch of the elixir, but they had done it. According to Kat, the plan was that they would use the elixir to bring Casper’s memories back, and hopefully the way to make the _real_ elixir along with them. It was a bit of a long-shot, but Kat and Casper both seemed to think it would work.

“Okay, ready,” Kat said after fitting the bottle into the Lazarus. She looked at Casper, expression softening. “ _Are_ you ready?”

Casper nodded. “Yeah, of course.” He gave her a small half-smile. “Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

They watched as Casper flew into the machine, closing the door behind him. Kat turned the bottle and started pushing and pulling levers. James had to admit he was impressed with how resourceful the two were, even if he wished Kat had told him about their plans a lot sooner. Kat always seemed to doubt her academic abilities, but as far as James was concerned, she had no reason to worry.

The Lazarus rumbled to life. It clanked and shook and whirred, just like before. It shuddered to a stop and everyone held their breath, even if three didn’t have breath to hold. The door opened with a mechanical hiss, and they all waited for the steam to clear, and when it did, Casper was revealed.

He looked just as James remembered seeing him, when Kat and Casper had danced at the Halloween party, except still transparent, and he was wearing suspenders over a simple white button-up shirt and brown pants. Casper looked down at himself, flexing all five fingers.

Kat made a sound of relief and flung her arms around Casper in a hug. “Oh good! You’re not an egg!”

Casper laughed. “Nope! I gotta admit, I was kinda worried about that, too.” Kat stepped back and they made their way down the stairs. Casper grinned at his uncles. “Guess you guys can’t call me bulb-head or short-sheet anymore, huh?”

“Maybe, maybe not, _blondie_ ,” Stretch smirked, ruffling Casper’s hair. Stinkie and Fatso laughed.

“I should’ve guessed,” Casper sighed.

“You’ll always be a bulb-head, bulb-head,” Fatso said, giving him a good-natured slap on the back.

Stinkie snickered. “Yep.”

Despite their teasing, the Trio didn’t seem like they were trying to be mean, and Casper didn’t look annoyed. James smiled. It was nice to see their relationship improving. He wondered if it had something to do with looking and feeling more like their living selves. While James always tried to remember that they’d been alive, seeing them looking more human made it easier, in a way. Perhaps having seen each other as only vaguely human forms had been part of the problem for the Trio, allowing them to depersonalize Casper to some degree. James would have to keep an eye on things, and see how everything developed now that there was no choice but to see themselves and Casper as people.

“I… I can’t remember how Dad made the elixir,” Casper spoke up, looking around the lab with a worried frown. “I remember being down here, but I don’t remember that…”

“It’s okay,” Kat said with a reassuring smile. “Maybe it’ll take a couple days to come back to you. I would’ve been more surprised if you remembered everything immediately, to be honest.”

Stretch patted Casper’s shoulder. “Yeah. We’re still rememberin’ stuff, too.”

Casper nodded, flashing them both a grateful look. “Maybe. That makes sense, I guess.” He sighed again, but this time a smile followed. “I’ll remember at some point. And then when I’m alive again I’m sure Dad’ll remember me.”

“Exactly!” Kat agreed with a grin.

* * *

James couldn’t sleep. For many reasons his mind just wouldn’t turn off, and so he lay in the plush bed, staring up at the ceiling high above, trying every exercise he could remember to force himself to sleep.

It nearly worked. 

A thumping sound from the hall startled him back into full wakefulness. James rolled out of bed and onto his feet, sliding his glasses on. Pulling a green bathrobe on over his white t-shirt and gray sweatpants, he padded to the door, opened it, and peered outside. Nothing. Frowning, James wandered into the hall, following the sound until he found the source.

Stretch was floating a little ways away, smacking his head repeatedly against the wall.

“Whoa, whoa, what are you doing?” James exclaimed, hurrying over.

“Huh? Oh. It’s you.” Stretch floated down to land on his feet. “What’re ya freakin’ out over, Doc?”

James gestured from him to the wall, eyes wide. “You were hurting yourself.”

Stretch snickered. “I’m a ghost, remember?”

“… That may be, but that’s still…” James rubbed a hand over his face. He started again, “Why were you doing that? Is something wrong?”

“Couldn’t sleep. Thought it might help,” Stretch replied, crossing his arms. 

James gave a thoughtful hum. “I see. As a matter of fact, neither could I,” he said with a half-smile. “Do you want to discuss what’s keeping you up?”

For a moment it looked like Stretch might refuse, but then he shrugged. “Sure. Why not. Everyone else in this stinkin’ house is asleep, might as well do  _somethin’._ ”

James nodded and turned back in the direction of his bedroom. He glanced at Stretch out of the corner of his eye. It was still strange to see him walking instead of floating. James had noticed the Trio walking around more since they’d used the Lazarus, and he wondered if it was a result of having a more human form, or their memories. Perhaps both.

“Ya know, it’s a little weird bein’ in here. I never really stepped foot in this room when I was alive,” Stretch remarked, looking around.

“Why’s that?” James asked, sitting on the edge of his bed.

“It was J.T.’s and Elsie’s room. I had no reason to come in,” Stretch replied. “An’ I guess it musta been a habit ‘cause I haven’t really come in here much since I died, neither.” He strolled over and plonked himself down beside James.

James nodded slowly. “So… what’s on your mind, hm?”

Stretch’s expression became uncomfortable. He scratched at his chin. “Uh, well…” Stretch worked his jaw back and forth. “You remember how that newspaper said I’d been in the war?”

“Yes.”

“I guess some memories from that decided to pop up while I was tryin’ to sleep,” Stretch said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his thighs. His gaze had dropped to the floor. “I remember bein’ sent to France, actually. Wasn’t there very long, since I was drafted late in the game. Still… I mostly remember a lot of gunfire, and tanks. The platoon I was in got cornered at one point by a German troop on the way to Marne.

“The thing that woke me up…” Stretch grimaced. He buried his face in his hands. “I was right there. Fuckin’ right there, a little more to the left an’ I woulda… This guy —Franky … His face got  _blown off_ …”

James inhaled sharply through his nose. _Holy shit,_ he thought. Despite his shock and horror, he kept his expression calm.  No wonder Stretch wasn’t able to sleep, with  _that_ in his head. “I can’t even imagine what that’s like,” James said softly.

Stretch sat back up, hands clenching in his lap. His expression was distant, haunted.  But he didn’t say anything, though his jaw worked back and forth like he wanted to.

“Is there anything I can do to help you?” James asked. As much as he wanted to reach out to comfort Stretch, he knew that could potentially make things worse. 

“I’m fine,” Stretch muttered, shaking his head as if to clear it of the memories. “It was a long time ago.”

James nodded slowly. “It  _was_ a long time ago, but that doesn’t mean you can’t still be affected. And it’s okay to not be fine. It doesn’t make you weak,” he assured. “I know that during the time you were alive therapy wasn’t nearly what it is now. And to say the general view of mental health was poor would be an understatement. If anyone made you feel like any of this made you less than in some way, they were wrong.”

Stretch finally looked at him. “I ‘preciate that, Doc. I really do. But I am feelin’ a little better already,” he said with a shrug. A small smile crossed his lips. “An’ I’m not just sayin’ that.”

“Oh. Well, that’s excellent,” James replied, returning his smile. “Of course, if something comes up again, or you just want to talk about it, I’m always willing to listen.”

“I know ya are,” Stretch said in a tone James hadn’t heard from him before. It was gentle, relaxed, with an underlying emotion he couldn’t place. Stretch reached out, taking James’ chin between his thumb and forefinger. 

James was about to ask what he was doing when he was interrupted by cold lips pressing against his own. His breath hitched. Stretch was kissing him. James didn’t know how to react. Should he react at all? Kiss him back? Stop him? The change in mood was a bit of a whiplash.

But it did feel nice. Though, the faint scratch of Stretch’s goatee was unexpected. James’ eyes slipped shut and he tilted his head, encouraging the kiss. A hand settled on his hip. It felt like he’d imagined it would. Except…

James pulled back, earning a startled and somewhat annoyed noise from Stretch. “Stretch. Did you… Before…” He couldn’t form the question, heat rising to his cheeks.

For a moment, Stretch looked confused. But then a sly grin appeared. “Oh. That. Yeah, I figured you’d forgotten about that. Or didn’t realize, so I didn’t say nothin’. You were kinda out of it. But how could I have resisted when I heard you sayin’ my name like that?” Stretch said with a leer.

“Stretch! That’s… I can’t believe you really did that,” James exclaimed, jumping up from the bed. He ran his fingers through his hair. It had been real. Stretch really had watched him while he’d been pleasuring himself.  _Oh god_ . 

“Hey, wait a minute now,” Stretch said, getting up. He crowed James against a wall, hands landing on either side of his head. “ You were thinkin’ of me, so don’t get all prudish. ”

James frowned. “That’s not the point. You didn’t have permission to watch me. Especially since I wasn’t entirely sober. You can’t do that again.”

Stretch stared down at him, eyes narrowed. “But you enjoy ed it.  The thought of me touchin’ you. ”

An annoyed sigh escaped James. “Yes, but—”

“And you liked me kissin’ y a just now?” Stretch continued.

“Yes.”

“Soooo,” Stretch drawled, smirking. “Do I have your permission now to do it again?”

James blinked, mind trying to catch up. He shook his head. “Stretch, I’m being serious.” James passed through Stretch’s arms, ignoring the shiver it sent through him. “I need to know that you know you can’t just do something like that to people.”

“Okay, okay. Yeah, I know, I shouldn’t’ve done it,” Stretch relented. Arms encircled James’ waist from behind and a chin rested on his shoulder. “I’m… ya know… sorry, or whatever.”

Despite the way he’d said it, his tone did sound genuine. James knew it was quite a feat to get Stretch to admit he’d done wrong, let alone actually apologize for it. He sighed, adjusting his glasses. “Good,” James said, unable to stay too mad with him. “Then I feel comfortable giving you my consent now.”

“Thank fuck!” Stretch spun James around and planted a kiss on him. Hands moved under James’ robe, sliding down to cup and squeeze his ass, making James gasp into the kiss. James gripped the front of Stretch’s suit, though his fingers partially passed through it. Stretch trailed kisses along his jaw and down his neck. Tingling pleasure spread up James’ spine.

Teeth grazed his neck and James moaned. “Stretch…”

Stretch groaned. “Ya got no right soundin’ like that, Doc,” he growled, lifting his head to lock eyes with James. 

“Like what?” James breathed, unable to tear his gaze away. Stretch’s eyes were glowing—quite literally—and his expression was heated.

“Playin’ coy, huh?” Stretch snickered. He walked James backwards until the backs of his knees hit the bed. “Cute.”

James gave a short yelp as Stretch shoved his robe off him, letting it crumple to the floor, before quickly pulling his shirt off and yanking his pants and boxers down. Off balance, he fell backwards onto the bed, the covers of which had been pulled away at some point.

“Sorry, Doc, guess I’m feelin’ a bit impatient,” Stretch said with a grin, clearly not sorry at all. His gaze raked boldly over James, who blushed as he shifted properly onto the bed. “Hmmm…  _Nice._ ”

“E-exactly how are you planning to continue this?” James managed to ask. He’d never had sex with a ghost. Would it be at all similar to with a living human, or drastically different? Could it even work without blood flowing to the… right places?

As Stretch climbed onto the bed, his clothes disappeared. “Didn’t figure you for the dirty talk type, but can’t say as I mind,” he replied, pushing Jame’s legs apart and settling between his thighs.

“That’s not what I meant,” James protested, though he was unable to help admiring Stretch. He was lean, but with a hint of muscle in his arms and legs, not obvious unless he moved. James’ bit his lip at the sight of Stretch’s cock, which was long like the rest of him and decently thick. Surprisingly he was half-hard. James quickly returned his gaze to Stretch, who was leering at him.

“Like whatcha see?” Stretch asked, arching his brows.

James reached up and placed his hand at the back of Stretch’s head, tugging him down for a kiss. “Yeah, I do,” he murmured against Stretch’s lips.

Stretch humored him for a moment, then kissed his way across James’ jaw and down to his neck, making James moan. Chilled fingers rubbed his nipples and James gasped, unsure if he was arching to try and get away or get closer. Stretch ground their hips together. James moaned a little louder, rocking his hips up to meet him.

“You’re so sensitive,” Stretch teased, sounding both amused and turned on. He gently pinched James’ nipple, earning a whine for his efforts. “Guess it shouldn’t be a surprise, though.”

“And you’re still very chatty,” James panted, sliding his hands over Stretch’s shoulders and down his arms. “If we’re pointing out the obvious.”

Stretch snickered. “Touché.” He gave a startled groan when James slipped his hand between them and wrapped  it around his cock.

“Oh good, so you  _can_ feel that,” James remarked with a relieved smile. Before Stretch could respond, he flipped them so Stretch was on his back. Making his way down his body, he continued, “Which means you can feel this.”

“ _Shit!_ ” Stretch swore as James licked a flat stripe over the head of his cock before taking him into his mouth.

James really hadn’t thought it out very well; still, he was determined to make Stretch feel good, too. He’d given a couple blowjobs here and there, so he had some idea of what he was doing, but that had been a long time ago. Also, the feel of Stretch’s cock was a bit different, having less weight to it and being a bit cold. Keeping his teeth out of the way, he bobbed his head and sucked. 

“Damn, you look real good like that,” Stretch praised, sliding his fingers into James’ hair. He tugged it a little and James moaned around him. 

James pulled off and instead dragged his tongue up the shaft, then over the head again. Stretch practically growled. With a yelp, James found himself on his back again. He blinked up at Stretch, but was quickly distracted by a hard, sloppy kiss.

The sound of the nightstand drawer opening startled James, making him break the kiss. Stretch had the lotion from inside in his hand.  _Oh_ . James pushed his glasses back up his nose and looked at Stretch again. 

“Don’t be so surprised, Doc. Just ‘cause I’m impatient doesn’t mean I wanna hurt ya,” Stretch said. He squeezed some out onto his fingers. Or tried. The first time it passed right through onto the bed. The second time he got it. 

James’ response was muffled by another kiss. Stretch folded James’ legs back towards his chest before reaching down and rubbing a slick finger over his rim, making him twitch. James moaned into his mouth, hands clenching in the sheets. Stretch prodded and massaged the spot, circling, teasing. And then it was inside. James gasped loudly, eyes widening.

Stretch smirked, keeping eye contact as he thrust his finger in and out. “What, don’t tell me you weren’t expectin’ that?”

“Nnngh… Never gotten this far with… with a guy,” James panted. He whined when Stretch’s finger stopped moving.

“You serious?” Stretch asked, brows raised. Clearly not expecting an answer, his grin returned, a touch feral. He pushed a second finger in beside the first. “This is gonna be even more fun, then.” The fingers spread, stretching James open.

James still tried to form a response, but then Stretch curled his fingers just right. Pleasure shot through his trembling body. “Oh god!”

Stretch cackled. “Found it.” He rubbed over James’ prostate with glee, making James’ cock leak onto his stomach. 

“Ah! Yes!” James clapped a hand over his mouth. He wasn’t sure how thin the walls were and he really didn’t need to wake anyone else in the manor up. Opening his eyes—when had he closed them?—he caught Stretch’s gaze and tried to silently beg him to hurry up.

“Needy ain’t ya?” Stretch teased, removing his fingers. He gripped James’ hips as James let his legs drop to wrap around his waist. Stretch pressed against him. James’ brow furrowed. He felt a lot smaller than he’d looked. But it was easy to take, and soon Stretch’s hips were flush against his ass. 

Then something strange happened. James could feel Stretch’s cock growing inside him. “O-oh…” he moaned, clutching at Stretch’s biceps as he arched his back. It was unlike anything he’d felt before, but it was so indescribably good.

“Perks of bein’ a ghost,” Stretch snickered as he gave an experimental grind of his hips.

James couldn’t respond with anything other than a loud moan. He curled his arms around Stretch’s neck, pulling him into a kiss. It helped keep himself quiet, and it was just nice in general. James rolled his hips up to meet Stretch’s thrusts. Stretch found his prostate again, and James was thankful for Stretch’s lips over his own.

Stretch’s hands were everywhere, not stopping in one place for long, caressing James’ sides, squeezing hips, stroking thighs, grabbing his ass. One curled around James’ cock and stroked in time with his thrusting, which picked up speed and power. The bed rocked and creaked rhythmically beneath them. Stretch leaned down to press open mouthed kisses to James’ neck. He latched onto a point just above his collarbone and nipped and sucked the spot, making James’ toes curl.

“ _Streeetch…_ ” James whimpered, clawing ineffectively at his back. “I-I’m not gonna—AH—last…”

“Then don’t,” Stretch purred, thrusting harder, relentless. He twisted his wrist just right as he slammed into James.

That was it. The slow build of pleasure that had been flooding his veins peaked. James cried out, white heat exploding through him. He was vaguely aware of Stretch still thrusting into him, but then he was fully aware. James gasped at the over-stimulation. It didn’t last long, as with two, three more thrusts Stretch was cumming with a shout. James bit his lip, stifling a moan.

_Wait…_ James blinked slowly.  _How is that possible?_

Stretch pulled out, causing James to wince, and collapsed on his back beside James. “ _Fuck,_ that was good,” he said, grinning from ear to ear.

James nodded. “Ah, yes… it was,” he agreed, adjusting his glasses. Now that it had happened, however, he didn’t know what to do. He should get cleaned up, but that would have to wait until his limbs stopped feeling like jelly. It was nice to just lay there, though. Stretch’s shoulder was blissfully chilly against James’ overheated skin. 

Eventually he managed to get up and limp to the bathroom, shaking his head at Stretch’s snickering. James caught sight of himself in the mirror as he ran water over a washcloth. His cheeks were flushed, eyes bright, and hair mussed. In short, he looked well fucked. James’ gaze dropped to the hickey on his neck. His heart raced until he realized it was just low enough to be covered by a shirt. 

Breathing a sigh of relief, James wiped his stomach clean. However, when he reached behind himself, what he felt was… odd. What would have normally been cum was, well, different. Not by a lot, but the texture was slightly thinner. And colder. Ectoplasm. That explained what he’d felt.

After cleaning up, James returned to his room and was surprised to see Stretch still there on the bed. Biting back a smile, he joined him. “Are you staying?” James asked quietly.

Stretch shrugged, eyes heavy. “Might as well. ‘M too tired to go back to my room.” He looked at James out of the corner of his eye. “Unless you want me to go.”

“Of course not. You’re more than welcome to stay here,” James assured him, pulling up the covers. He’d deal with properly cleaning them and taking a shower tomorrow. James removed his glasses and set them on the nightstand before turning off the light and rolling onto his side.

A few moments passed, and then an arm draped around his waist and Stretch pressed up against his back. James fell asleep with a smile.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments and kudos everyone, I truly appreciate it! I hope you all like this chapter.

Sunlight spilled in through the windows of the doors to the balcony, arching across the wood floor, and stretching over the bed. Consciousness tugged James awake and he yawned. Other than the sun, the first thing that James’ registered was the arm slung around his waist and the nose pressed into the back of his head. Stretch was still there. James smiled and rested his hand over Stretch’s, linking their fingers.

Well, he tried to. His own went right through Stretch’s. James twisted slightly and saw that Stretch was still asleep. That made sense, then. When he was awake he was able to control how solid he was, to an extent, and so while asleep, he was mostly incorporeal. He also looked more relaxed than James had ever seen him.

A violet eye cracked open.

“Good morning,” James murmured.

Stretch mumbled something unintelligible, closing his eye again. He sighed. “How long’ve you been starin’ at me?”

“A few seconds,” James said with a soft laugh. Rolling onto his back made Stretch open his eyes properly, moving to give him room. James cupped his cheek and leaned up to give him a chaste kiss.

“What was that for?” Stretch asked, sounding as though he was trying not to seem too pleased.

James shrugged. “No reason. Just because I can. I can, right?”

Stretch smirked. “ _Tch,_ obviously.” He kissed James properly, getting a breathy moan in response. Stretch leaned back, a glint in his eyes. “Keep makin’ that noise and we’ll be havin’ a much better mornin’.”

Heat rose in James’ cheeks. “Ah, well… As much as I’d love to, I’m still a bit… sore.” He ignored the filthy smile that earned him from Stretch and looked over at his alarm clock. Squinting, he could just make out the time. “Also, it’s late and Kat and Casper will be up soon, if they aren’t already.”

“Fine,” Stretch grumbled with a frown.

“But…” James said with a grin. “Tonight might be  okay .”

Stretch’s smirk returned. “You’re a tease, but fine. Tonight.”

James had figured he’d be the first in the kitchen, as had become a bit of a habit since he was competent at making breakfast at least, but no. He opened the door to find Fatso already there, making breakfast himself. 

Fatso glanced up from the pancakes he’d been making. “Mornin’.”

“Good morning,” James replied, unable to keep the surprise from his voice.

“I know, it’s weird. Just felt like cookin’ I guess,” Fatso said, looking away. His expression was guarded.

James smiled. “If it’s something you enjoy, then there’s nothing wrong with that. It smells really good.”

Fatso perked up. “Heh, it better. I used to make ‘em this way for years,” he boasted.

“—were ya this mornin’?” Stinkie’s voice carried into the kitchen before he and Stretch passed through the door.

“None of your business,” Stretch retorted.

Stinkie smirked. His gaze briefly fell on James, then returned to Stretch. “Sure. If ya say so.”

It seemed despite James and Stretch going there separate ways earlier that Stinkie at least  was on to them. James didn’t necessarily mind if Stinkie and Fatso knew, however he hoped that they’d keep quiet. He wanted to be able to talk to Kat himself, considering her dislike of the Trio,  and  especially  of  Stretch. Then again, was there really anything to talk about? James wasn’t sure if Stretch was interested in anything serious, so it was probably best to wait on the talk.

Kat and Casper wandered into the kitchen a few minutes later.

“Whoa, are you cooking?” Kat asked Fatso with wide eyes as she sat at the table.

“I was,” Fatso replied, setting aside the finished pancakes and bacon. The plates rose into the air and slid across the table to each of them. He grabbed the maple syrup James had just bought and dropped it in the middle of the table as James grabbed a cup of coffee for himself, and a glass of orange juice for Kat.

Kat poked dubiously at her stack before taking a careful bite. Her brows shot up. “Wow, these are good!”

James had to agree. They were perfectly fluffy and buttery, and the bacon was just right, too—not too crispy and not too chewy. He could see even Stretch and Stinkie were impressed.

“Uncle Fatso, can you show me how to make them like this some time?” Casper asked hesitantly.

Fatso beamed. “Sure thing. I remembered a whole buncha recipes and stuff I used to make,” he said. While he’d been sitting before, at Casper’s question he’d begun to float a little. 

“Oh hey,  speakin’ of learnin’ stuff, I finally figured out that computer thing,” Stinkie spoke up. Apparently the good mood was infectious. He looked over at Stretch and Fatso. “Did you guys know there were games on it?”

“What kinda games?” Fatso asked.

“A bunch! There’s card games, this weird thing called… uh… Minesweeper! ‘Cause ya gotta look for mines before they blow up or somethin’. And also a skiing game. That one’s hard, though, there’s this monster thing that keeps eatin’ the little person you control,” Stinkie babbled.

Stretch arched an eyebrow. “When’d ya find all this?”

“Last night. I was bored and figured I’d see what all the fuss was about the computer,” Stinkie said with a shrug. 

“There are more games that we can get for the computer, if that’s something that interests you,” James offered.

Stinkie’s eyes lit up and he grinned. “More?” 

Stretch groaned. “Great,” he muttered. “A new weird obsession.”

“It ain’t weird. If there are more games then that means other people like it, too,” Stinkie huffed.

Kat laughed. “Never would’ve guessed you’d be the gamer type.” She looked at James. “Maybe this means we can finally get a Nintendo or something?”

James nodded slowly. Kat had asked for one before, but given their constant travels and the less than consistent income, he’d said no. But maybe now was a good time, especially if the others were interested. “I’ll look into it,” he finally replied.

“What’s a Nintendo?” Stinkie asked.

“It’s another thing that lets you play video games,” Kat explained. “I’ve heard guys at some of the schools I’ve gone to talk about them before. It sounded fun. Also multiple people can play it at once.”

Casper smiled. “You mean we could play the games together?”

“Yeah,” Kat said, returning the smile.

James fondly shook his head as he sipped his coffee. It seemed he had no choice, he’d just have to get them a Nintendo one of these days.

* * *

Kat made her way down to the lab after dropping her backpack off in the library. She wasn’t surprised to find Casper there, but she was surprised to find him crying. He was sitting in the chair, bent over the desk, head hidden in his arms. Kat carefully approached. “Casper?”

Casper jerked up, rubbing at his eyes. “Kat? You’re back…”

“Yeah.” Kat tilted her head. “What’s wrong?”

“I… I know why I can’t remember how my dad made the elixir,” Casper said, hanging his head. “I wasn’t paying enough attention. If I’d just listened to how he did it, or watched closer, then I’d know.”

Kat rested her hand on his shoulder. “Stop that. It’s not your fault,” she said gently.

“It is, though,” Casper insisted.

“Nope,” Kat retorted, shaking her head. “It’s not like you knew he wouldn’t be around to make more. Or even that he’d need to.”

Casper shrugged. “Now what? I don’t know how he did it, and he doesn’t remember me.” Casper curled in on himself in the chair. “I almost wish I didn’t know he was a ghost. Then I could pretend he still knows me.”

Kat sat on the stone floor. “I get it. Sort of,” she said, curling her fingers into the oversized sweater she wore. “When my dad didn’t remember me… It was like I couldn’t breathe. Or like the world had just crumbled under my feet.”

Slowly, Casper looked at her. He gave a little nod.

“But I made him remember,” Kat continued, perking up a little. “And you and the Trio are all remembering stuff. So we’ll find a way to make your dad remember. We just have to find the right way to do it.”

“Y-yeah… Yeah, that’s right,” Casper said with a shaky smile. 

Kat stood when he did and she hugged him. “Everything’ll work out. One way or another, okay?”

“Thanks, Kat,” Casper whispered, hugging her tight.

* * *

Little Peak Sanatorium didn’t look much different than when they’d l ast been there , still a dark, lonely building stark against the bright snow surrounding it. However, knowing what to expect now, the place didn’t seem quite so creepy. Just sad.

Casper clutched his signed baseball in his hands as they climbed the steps and entered the sanatorium. He had decided on bringing that in the hopes it would jog J.T.’s memory. 

“Ya think he’ll be in his room still?” Stinkie asked, looking up at the ceiling with a small frown.

“Well, Irene told us before he sometimes goes outside or stays in the rec room,” James pointed out. “Since we’re down here we might as well check those out first.”

Stretch shrugged. “Makes sense to me.”

Having gone down the right-hand hallway last time, they made their way down the left. At the very end of the hall, James could see a set of double doors, which meant it either lead to the rec room, or possibly a cafeteria. He wasn’t entirely sure about whether or not that was a thing, or whether the patients had just been fed in their rooms.

When the y reached the end, James pushed open one of the doors. It was indeed a rec room. If it could be called that. A few ghosts were inside, some sitting on ratty old leather couches and chairs, one curled up in an empty corner by a broken radio, and a few at little tables either talking quietly among themselves or playing with some stained and beat up cards. A couple of the ghosts looked up when they entered, most didn’t, but otherwise they didn’t react much.

“Is that him?” Kat whispered, nodding her head at a ghost that was floating by a window, staring out through the frost.

“Yeah…” Casper said.

James rested a hand on Kat’s shoulder. “I think we’d best stay back here, considering his reaction to us before. The less stress he’s under the better.”

Stretch turned to Fatso. “Then you stay here with them. In case any of these guys gets the bright idea of startin’ somethin’,” he told him.

Fatso nodded. “Right.” He crossed his arms, moving to stand in front of James and Kat.

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” James protested. None of the other ghosts seemed that interested in them. “They look pretty harmless.”

Stretch’s eyes narrowed. “An’ what if that changes? What if J.T. gets all freaked out again and riles ‘em up, huh?” He shook his head. “I ain’t taken any chances. You fleshies are too fragile.”

Before James could say anything else, Stretch and Stinkie walked away with Casper in tow. He sighed. As much as he doubted that would happen, it was hard not to appreciate that Stretch was protective of them. In his own way.

J.T. didn’t seem to realize anyone was approaching until they were already beside him. He turned and frowned at them, tilting his head. “You two again? And… you…” J.T.’s cold gaze dropped to Casper.

Given how quiet the room was otherwise, James and Kat could hear him fairly well. Kat watched them, biting her lip. James squeezed her shoulder gently.

Casper looked up at him. “I… I, well, I wanted to talk to you. Please?” he said, voice trembling ever so slightly. Stretch and Stinkie tensed.

For a moment, J.T. didn’t respond, instead floating there in stony silence. “Why?”

“Because, you need to remember me,” Casper replied. He held out the baseball. “This might help.”

J.T.’s eyes narrowed—his expression much like Stretch’s earlier—and he regarded Casper for a few seconds before taking the ball. He turned it over in his transparent hands, then froze. The frown melted away, replaced by a horrified twist of the lips and wide blue eyes. His hands shook and the ball dropped to the floor, rolling across the uneven boards until it bumped into the side of a couch. “Casper…” J.T. pulled Casper into his arms and buried his face into his hair. “Oh god!”

“Dad?” Casper gasped.

“Casper… Casper, I’m so sorry,” J.T. said, tears streaming down his cheeks. “How could I have forgotten?”

“That seems like how it works for us ghosts,” Stretch remarked.

J.T. looked up. “Sam… Peter… You—you’re still here?”

“Where else would we be?” Stinkie asked, genuinely confused.

Stretch slapped him upside the head. He looked back at J.T. “’Course we are. Couldn’t let the litt—Casper just float around Whipstaff all alone,” Stretch said with an affronted sniff.

“And where’s…?” J.T. looked around the room until he spotted who he’d been looking for. “Joe?”

Fatso beamed and, either forgetting or not caring about Stretch’s orders, hurried over. “You remembered!”

J.T. gave a shaky smile, and then turned his attention back to Casper. He floated down to his level to cup his face in his hands. “Casper, can you forgive me? I don’t know why I couldn’t remember.”

Casper smiled. “Of course I can. I know you couldn’t help it,” he said, reaching up to wipe away his own tears. “We all kinda forgot stuff over the years.”

“Years… How long has it been?” J.T. asked.

“Uh, let’s see…” Stretch counted on his fingers. “Well, I don’t know when you bit the dust, but for Casper here it’s been… fifty-one years.”

“ _Fifty-one?_ ” J.T. shook his head, bewildered. “That long? I must have been here… I don’t know. It’s all fuzzy…”

Casper hugged J.T. again. “It’s okay. You don’t have to be here anymore. You can come home with us!” he said with a grin. “And with the Harvey’s. I know you’ll like them once you get to know them.”

J.T. pet his hair. “Who are the Harvey’s?” When Casper pointed, he looked over at James and Kat. Slight recognition flickered across his face before he glared at them. “That’s the doctor.” J.T. grit his teeth and the windows rattled.

“Whoa, uh-uh, we ain’t doin’ this again!” Stretch snapped, moving between J.T. and James and Kat, despite the fact they were clear across the room. “Calm the fuck down!”

J.T. twitched, the room settling again, and he frowned at Stretch. “Sam, what have I said about swearing in front of Casper?”

At Stretch’s incredulous look, Stinkie and Fatso snickered behind their hands.

“Dad, they’re good people, I promise,” Casper said, glancing from James and Kat to J.T.. “They’re my friends. Give them a chance?”

“Your… friends?” J.T. seemed conflicted, but then he gave a slow nod and allowed Casper to lead him over.

Casper smiled brightly. “Dad, this is Kat and Dr. Harvey.”

“Ah, James is fine,” James said. He hesitated, then held out his hand.

J.T. shook it stiffly. “John Thomas,” he replied, voice tight. Almost immediately he let go of James’ hand. He gave Kat a polite nod.

“It’s nice to meet you, properly,” Kat said, her smile an awkward attempt at friendly.

J.T.’s glower relaxed a bit. “You and my son are friends?” he asked.

Kat’s smile became more genuine. “Yeah, we are. Best friends,” she replied, lifting her chin as if daring J.T. to say something negative about that.

“We met when they moved in a few months ago,” Casper added, practically bouncing where he stood.

“Moved in?” J.T. echoed, his frown returning. “They live in Whipstaff?”

Stretch groaned. “Look, it’s a long story, an’ one I don’t wanna have here,” he complained. Stinkie and Fatso nodded.

James went and got Casper’s baseball and handed it to him. He turned to J.T. “Will you let us explain everything back at home?” he asked gently.

J.T. looked from him to Casper, who was smiling up at him hopefully. He nodded. “Very well.”

As they headed out of the room, something caught James’ sleeve. He turned to see Irene, pulling her hand back and ducking her head. Had she been in the rec room the whole time?

“Sorry… I just wanted to…” Irene looked past his shoulder where the others were headed down the hall , then hesitantly up at him. “You’re taking J.T. away?”

James nodded. “We’re taking him home. You remember Casper from last time we were here? J.T. remembered Casper is his son,” he explained gently. “You know, you and the others could always leave here? You don’t have to stay.”

Irene tilted her head. “There is nowhere else to go,” she said simply. Wrapping her arms around herself, she gave a heavy sigh. “We don’t know anything else but here.”

_Oh._ James’ chest ached. Of course that was the problem. They couldn’t remember their lives, let alone their families, who were also likely dead or far older than they’d known. And if they didn’t even know their unfinished business, they couldn’t move on either. 

“I’m sorry,” James told her. “ But … maybe I can do something to help.”

“Help?” Irene echoed with a curious frown. “How?”

James adjusted his glasses. “I don’t know exactly right now. But I’ll think of something, okay? I  _will_ find a way to help you all,” he promised. It was a big promise, but he’d find a way. James couldn’t in good conscience let all these poor people stay in the asylum for eternity. 

A small, sad smile crossed Irene’s lips. “That’s nice of you to say.” Before James could respond, she disappeared through the wall.


End file.
